Romeo & Juliet
by A.Jones5
Summary: Just a collection of one-shots centred around Jughead and Betty. Will include other ships if requested. I will be changing points of view.
1. Chapter 1: Jealousy

**I know I haven't written in a while, and really, I should be updating my other fanfics. But I'm having a bit of a block with them, and I've started watching Riverdale. So instead, I've decided to work on one-shots for that instead. I will eventually go back to the others, but at the moment it would be pointless. Anyway, please let me know what you think of it. Rated M for later chapters.**

 ** _Ch.1- Jealousy_**

Archie Andrews stood at his bedroom window. Feet rooted to the ground,he couldn't find the will power to move away from the scene unfolding in front of him. The blonde beauty entangled in Riverdale High's very own Holden Caulfield. Said boy was discarded of his shirt and beanie, with the girl next door's creamy legs wrapped around his torso, fingers knotted in his dark hair, and lips attacking his. Their hands roamed hungrily; nails dragged down his back; his hands cupping her breasts through the lacy fabric- that Archie would never have predicted she even owned. Her hand's manoeuvred down his blood brother's abdomen until she reached the waist band of his jeans, slipping her nibble fingers beneath the fabric. The boy in question tossed his head forward onto her shoulder as the momentum of her arm increased.

Grabbing the curtains, Archie turned his back on the scene. He couldn't witness the entire act. What he had perceived to be an overprotective- brotherly love had turned into something more. Why had he turned Betty away? The girl next door had been right there, waiting for him. Archie was the only one to blame; he had basically sent her running into Jughead's arms. He wanted it to be him over there in her bedroom defiling her 'good-girl' reputation. Instead, like so many other nights, he would lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, until Jughead would stumble in- early hours of the morning- flushed and clothes askew.

The hours rolled by and still no Jughead. Archie reached over to the bedside locker, squinting at the alarm clock: three o'clock in the morning. It's been five hours. Archie had, had his fair share of experience and no way could Jughead have that much stamina. Dragging himself from bed, he walked blindly towards the window, peering through the curtains only to find that they had taken it upon themselves to finally close her curtains. Too late for privacy now.

Archie didn't sleep. How could he? It had been days since he'd gotten a proper night's sleep. He affirmed that he would have to confront her today. _How…when her puppy Jones follows her everywhere?_ He reminded himself. Archie hesitated on the front porch, watching, waiting for them to emerge from the house but finally relented.

"Why didn't you come home last night?" Archie demanded, leaning against the lockers.  
"Woah, ok dad?" Jughead laughed. "I stayed over at Betty's," he shrugged dismissing it. "See you," he said crossing the hall to meet Betty, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and leaning in close to whisper something. Archie bunched his fists in his pocket.  
"Okay Archikins?" Veronica asked, appearing beside him. He nodded before heading off to first class.

Drumming his fingers against the table top Archie fixed his stare on the object of his affection. Betty was listening attentively, meeting the teacher's gaze, nodding along and appearing interested but Archie noticed the way she absentmindedly dragged her pencil up and down the margin. How would he go about this? He couldn't remember the last time they'd been alone together. Lunch? No, too suspicious. After school? She'd be with Jughead, obviously. But maybe that would be ideal. Going to Pop's wouldn't cause any suspicion.  
A: want to go to Pop's this evening?  
He glanced up to catch her reaction. First, Betty checked to make sure the teacher wasn't looking, then opened the message.  
B: sure, see you then.

The day dragged. But finally, Archie was sitting across from her as she slurped her milkshake in silence.  
"Betty, listen…" he started building up the courage. She peered up at him, attentively. "I like you. Like more than a brother or a friend. I want you."  
Betty didn't reply immediately. She sat there in shock. Not out of hesitation; contemplating her options. There was no doubt in her mind who she wanted to be with.  
"Archie, I love you as a sister. I misinterpreted it, and maybe I just was in love with the idea of love. I'm sorry if I mislead you, but I'm with Juggie and I don't want anything to change that."

That night neither boy spoke to the other, left with their own thoughts- both centred around a certain blonde.

"Morning," Betty smiled, linking her arm through Jughead's and kissing his cheek.  
"Morning," he answered coldly, shrugging out of her grasp, and disappearing down the hallway before she could protest. At lunch, he avoided her gaze and remained silent. When the bell rang, she caught him by the wrist and dragged him down the hall.  
"Come on Betts I'm going to be late for class," he protested. Betty ignored him and dragged him into the janitor's closet.  
"What's going on?" she asked.  
"Nothing-"  
"Oh don't try pull that. You won't even look at me," she said, a tone of accusation, yet still resting the palm of her hand against his cheek.  
"Archie likes you, you like him. Where the hell does that leave me?" Jughead snapped, stepping away from her tender touch.  
"You can't be serious!" Betty scoffed.  
"Don't pretend." He hissed. "I saw the two of you in Pop's yesterday evening!"  
"Juggie!" she interjected. "It's _you_ I want. Not Archie. I told him as much yesterday. I love him like a brother. You mean so much more to me." Then she cupped his face in her hands and before he could protest, she leaned in and kissed him.

Jughead's hands moved to her thighs, hoisting her against the door, as his body moulded against hers. He moved his lips to her jaw.  
"You mean that?" Jughead panted, hot breath against her skin.  
"You're mine. I'm yours. I don't want anyone to come between us." She whispered slowly, a promise. Jughead groaned, capturing her lips again.

Veronica Lodge never missed drama and this new revelation wasn't completely unexpected, but certainly shocking.  
"Confessed his feelings?" she spat, almost sinister, for the second time.  
"Out of nowhere. I explained that it didn't change things with Jughead," Betty shrugged, taking another sip from her coffee. Before she could protest, Veronica swooped out into the hallways on a mission. Betty followed, hopelessly asking her to forget about it. But to no avail. Betty followed the brunette all the way down to the boy's locker rooms.  
"ARCHIE ANDREWS!" Ronnie demanded, hands on her hips in the middle of the room. Half-naked boys scurried past, glaring at the intruder. A flash of red hair appeared from behind the lockers.  
"How dare you declare your feelings like that? Trying to manipulate a good relationship, just because the golden girl is no longer sitting across from your bedroom window waiting! She's not always going to be your fall back option, so be happy for her!" without waiting for a response she stormed out. Betty shot Archie an apologetic glance before rushing after her friend.

Archie stood in the middle of the steamy room, dumbfounded.

 **Thank you so much for reading. Please, please review.**


	2. Chapter 2: Life-line

**_Ch. 2: Life-Line_**

I lay curled up on my bed. Why did she turn me away, _again?_ I was supposed to have my sister back. But I'm beginning to think she really doesn't want to come home. Mom was still holding up her guarded front- I've failed. After this morning...well let's say I might as well cut all ties, give up hoping and move on.

 _Tap, tap, tap._ I ignored the incessant, irritating sound. I furled into myself further- if that were even possible- burying my head between my knees, wrapping my arms over the back of my neck, hidden beneath the blanket- in the hope it would all just go back to normal. I wanted my family back. No, we weren't perfect- far from it- but our current situation was a living nightmare. Brushing it under the carpet would do no good, and I doubted there would be any reconciliation soon.

The sound rang in my ears, still not relenting. Yanking the blankets viciously I stood up to find the source. When I spun around and found Jughead gripping onto my windowsill I fell backwards, sprawled across the floor. Not that his preferred entrance was something new, but rather that I'd been hoping for something to target my anger on. This darkness was welling up inside of me. What if I really am the crazy one? Polly should never have been sent away, she's nowhere near as unstable as I am.

Scrambling towards the window, I let him in. Without a word, he drew me against his chest, resting his chin a top my head, wrapping his arms around me in a vice; the only thing holding me together. I rested my cheek against the scratchy wool of his jumper, and as clichéd as it might sound, everything else melted away from existence. I focused on his breathing, the rise and fall of his chest against me, the irregular pounding of his heart. I didn't allow myself to think further beyond the moment. The distraction.  
"What happened?" he whispered after what felt like only moments, but considering he asked, it had probably been far longer.  
"Polly." I whispered, looking up at him, still clutching onto his jumper like a life line. My hair was unruly and tangled, my cheeks were blotchy, my eyes bloodshot, and yet he caressed my cheek, leaned in, and brushed his lips against mine. Not suggestive, not even passionate, just comforting. A gentle reminder.

I wanted to tell him. He was here. He would listen. So why couldn't I just tell him?  
"Can you stay with me tonight?" I asked. He glanced at the door. My mom, of course. I bit my bottom lip, honestly not sure as to how to convince him, but hoping he would take the risk regardless.  
"Of course," he smiled, kicking off his boots, leaving his hat on my nightstand and curling up beside me under the covers.  
"I'll tell you in the morning," I promised, answering the question that hung in the air, the effort scratching my throat- a day of crying does that to a person.

My left leg sandwiched between his, my right hoisted over his hip, my hands underneath his shirt, his settled on the exposed skin of my hip. He looked so peaceful in sleep; the harsh expression gone. I traced his sharp cheekbone, trailing my finger down and across his lips, continuing my journey; down his chin, along his jaw, skimming his neck, lingering on his sweet spot, and finally resting on his shoulder. Distracted by this opportunity, to explore my guarded boyfriend without complaint, meant I hadn't noticed the exact moment that I'd woken him. Jughead dipped his head low, capturing my lips with his. It seemed we were both far braver when our actions weren't being watched. I deepened the kiss, reaching my hand up to tangle my fingers in his hair. His hands swiftly moved to my lower back drawing me closer to his chest.  
"Morning," he smiled against my lips.  
"Morning Juggie," I grinned up at him. There it was again; his unspoken question- what happened. I knew he was respecting my space by not pestering me or broaching the subject again.  
"Breakfast first," I smiled, concluding the unspoken discussion.

Jughead followed me downstairs and we went about the kitchen silently, reaching over each other; an unspoken partnership as we prepared breakfast. It wasn't until we were finally sitting that I noticed the time: one o'clock.  
"Juggie! School." I gasped.  
"Betty, you never miss a day. Two in a row won't kill you," he smiled, reaching across the table, lacing our fingers together.  
"She's never coming home." I blurted out. He squeezed my hand, comforting. "None of the Blossoms were home. I staked out the house and waited until I was sure that they had left her alone. She's too far along to travel and there's some family matter they had to attend to. I just…I was just making sure she was ok, and she snapped. Polly accused me of being the good girl who was just abiding by what mom wanted. It wasn't an act, no one was around, she didn't have to convince anyone. Her spying scheme has turned into something more."  
"Betts we'll figure this out," he wrapped an arm around my shoulder and we just sat in silence.

We hadn't moved from the couch all day. I had never felt this liberated. It was ironic really; a day of cuddling with Jughead and I felt more alive than an adrenaline junkie. Maybe it was the rebellious streak, combined with the safety I felt in his company. I had never taken a day off school for such an illegitimate reason, and on top of that I wasn't spending my time studying or partaking in extra curriculum. No, instead I was sitting between Jughead's legs, with his arms wrapped around me while the television played in the background. He kissed the back of my neck before moving to my ear, where he nibbled on the lobe, causing me to throw my head back against his shoulder. He moved back at the sound of the front door.  
"Betty, are you awake?" My mom called from the hallway.  
"Sitting room." I called back. When she walked into the room Jughead jumped in to excuse ourselves.  
"Sorry Mrs. Cooper, I called over to collect Betty this morning and she overslept so I convinced her to stay off school. It's my fault, I'm sorry."  
"Jughead I know you stayed last night, it's ok." Alice laughed, causing the two of us to sit and stare blankly at her. Who was this woman? "Are you staying for dinner?" she asked, walking out of the room. As I sat there, I realised that for now I would be ok without Polly because I had Jughead.


	3. Chapter 3: Betty's Birthday

**Firstly, I would just like to thank everyone for the positive response so far. I'm going to try and post one chapter each evening. I don't know how long that will last though, because I have exams coming up shortly. Anyway, please leave suggestions and review, thank you.**

 ** _Ch.3: Betty's Birthday_**

Jughead hated birthdays- that hadn't changed. However, his desire to make his girlfriend happy only intensified by the day. With Betty's birthday coming up, Jughead would set aside his issues. Unfortunately, with no experience, how would he even go about planning a birthday party? From his limited experience, he didn't exactly pay attention to detail, more blinded by the feeling of betrayal. Archie could help, but he didn't really plan parties either, only attended them. Veronica. Definitely.

"Veronica, there's someone here to see you," her mother called from the doorway. Veronica set aside her homework only to find Jughead standing on her doorstep.  
"Juggie, what are you doing here?" She asked, confused. Yes, she spent time with Jughead, but never without Archie or Betty in their company.  
"I need your help," he whispered, rubbing the back of his neck, not meeting her gaze. This was new territory to Jughead as well.  
"Come in," she smiled, stepping aside.

"A birthday? Juggie that's a great idea! Any suggestions?"  
"I was kind of hoping you could help plan it, but I was thinking at the Blue and Gold."  
"Leave it to me. I'll text you about it."

Betty sat at the desk, typing up the latest article on the football game when she felt lips on her forehead. She smirked, continuing to type, trying to act oblivious. His lips brushed her cheek, tantalizing. He nibbled on her ear and proceeded to suck on the junction of her shoulder and neck before she finally caved.  
"Hello to you too," she smiled, craning her neck back to kiss him. Resting a hand on her shoulder, he slid into the chair beside her, leaning back, folding his arms. His presence was comforting, but after that dramatic entrance, it was just plain distracting.  
"Proof read it for me?" Betty asked. Silently, she slid the laptop across the desk and turned her attention towards the invites.  
"What are those?" He asked, calculating, raising an eyebrow sceptically.  
"Jug!" Betty exclaimed shocked. "It's my birthday this weekend," she scoffed.  
"Well I know that," he rolled his eyes.  
"They're invites to my party." She smiled proudly. _Only Betts would still send out invites._

"Double invites?" Veronica asked, lying on her bed.  
"Well with Betty trying to organise a party, we need to plan our own and uninvite everyone to hers." Jughead explained, sitting at her desk chair.  
"Or, we could just include it. Give her two parties." Veronica shrugged. _Why someone would want one in the first place, and now we're organise two!?_

Saturday evening, Jughead paced back and forth outside of the Cooper's house, finally knocking on the door.  
"Good evening, Jughead," her mom greeted.  
"Is Betty home?"  
"She's up in her room," she smiled and retired to the kitchen. Jughead hesitated in the hallway until he couldn't hear her footsteps and made his way upstairs. She hadn't necessarily forbidden him from going up.  
Knocking on the door, he waited a moment, opening it slightly- allowing Betty time to protest- before walking in.  
"Juggie. I... I didn't expect you-"  
"I'm not early, am I?" he asked.  
"No, not at all. I just, well, I expected you to come through the window." She smiled sheepishly.  
"Sorry to disappoint, Juliet. Special occasions call for the unexpected," he smirked, presenting her with a bunch of flowers, that he'd been holding behind his back. Betty placed them on her desk before cupping the back of his neck, kissing him.  
"Thank you," she whispered against his lips, resting her forehead against his. His hand had moved to her lower back, holding her firm against him.  
"You look breath taking," he added, leaning back to full take in the outfit. Betty wore a white halter neck top and a pale pink leather skirt. Her blonde locks fell in tight curls, skimming her shoulders. Ineffable, truly.

The streets lay in darkness. Only the sound of Riverdale's newest couple could be heard; opposite hands interlaced, with Jughead's arm wrapped around her.  
"Pop's isn't this way…?" Betty pointed out.  
"Elizabeth Cooper! I know my way around town," Jughead feigned offense. "I left your present at the Blue and Gold- I was working late on the case."

There was something eerily creepy about an empty school in the middle of the night. Nothing posed a danger, just the blatant fact that students had free reign of unsupervised halls. Betty's heels clicked against the tiles, resounding around them. Jughead turned the knob, and stood back.  
"Ladies first," he winked, bracing his arm across his chest. Betty rolled her eyes and kissed his cheek as she passed. Jughead reached around the door frame, flicking on the switch.  
"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" Of course, Veronica was the nearest, pulling her into an embrace. Kevin and Archie followed quickly.  
"Guys!" she grinned, spinning around, and taking in the sight. There were banners hanging from wall to wall and party cups laid out on the coffee table. "Thank you all so much for doing this."  
"It was all Jughead," Veronica smiled, discreetly winking in his direction. There was no need to take credit for his good intentions.

Betty sat on Jughead's lap in the booth, with her arms draped over his shoulders.  
"Thank you. For everything," she leaned down kissing him passionately. After hanging around in the News room- just the five of them- they went to Pop's- as had been planned by Betty.

 **Please review and let me know what you think. I also hope to update another chapter this evening.**


	4. Chapter 4: Frustration

**_Ch.4: Frustration_**

Two hours and Jughead's fingers were stiff. He rotated his neck, while stretching and cracking his knuckles.  
"Okay, finished my part." He announced, leaning back, balancing the chair on two legs with his legs crossed on the table. There was no response other than the clicking of keys. The last person, being the janitor, had left at least half an hour ago. Well, that's what Jughead was presuming since there hadn't been a sound of life since. Betty sat across from him, working diligently- and silently, to his dismay. Initially, he was content with the agreement; work until the projects done. But he was going to crack up if she didn't interact soon.

"Coffee?" he asked, pushing away from the desk, walking towards the counter. No response. "Fine." He grumbled, flicking the switch on the kettle, and leaning against the counter, folding his arms across his chest, observing her. She sat poised, fingers arched over the keys; dancing across the keyboard without a loss of fluidity to her actions. Nothing. How did she work consistently? It was robotic. Jughead knew, without having to look in the mirror, that his hair was mussed and sticking up, after consistently running his fingers through it. His eyes were puffy from staring at the screen, and every now and again he had to just _move._

It was only a class project. The room should've been full of idle chatter and coffee breaks, as they leisurely worked together. To a stranger walking in, it would've appeared like two strangers working symbiotically, tolerating the other- not a god damned couple. She wouldn't even look up at him. Why did it frustrate him so much? He loved her company; whether it be alone, with others present, talking, silence. It- usually- didn't matter. Betty Cooper in his company was all that Jughead wanted- except that night. He wanted their usual playful, casual conversations to alleviate the workload. The utter silence and tense atmosphere only made matters worse.

The kettle came to the boil, and he poured two cups of coffee and grabbed a bar of chocolate from the stash in the corner, shoving it in his pocket. Mug in either hand, he walked towards her side of the desk, setting the coffee down beside her and resting his hands on her shoulders.  
"Betts, come on. Take a short break, it looks like you're nearly finished anyway," he tantalised, whispering in her ear.  
"Jesus Jughead, talk about personal space! Can't you see that I'm working on it! We can't all work on your time schedule." She snapped out of her robotic trance.  
"Betty come on I was only sayi-"  
"Only bored here cause we actually have to do work! Can't always be the way we want it."  
"What's gotten into you?" He asked reaching out to her. Betty opened her mouth to protest, but instead opted for moving out of his range.  
"Can you not just listen to me? Give me my space to work!"

Like the kicked puppy he was, Jughead retreated to his side of the desk, nursing the coffee between his stiff hands and played back the events of the day, trying to pinpoint something he could've said or done to evoke such a reaction. Nothing came to mind. Betty had seemed perfectly fine all day. So why the sudden outburst? There had to be something else.  
"No." He stated, standing up, bracing the palms of his hands against the table.  
"What?" She asked looking up, almost dazed.  
"No. You can't tell me to just give you space without any basis!" He explained.  
"Juggie let it go." Betty shook her head, a strand of hair falling loose, as she proceeded to type.  
"What's going on? It's just a stupid project." He was walking towards her with purpose.  
"I don't know okay?" She slammed the laptop shut. "I…I just don't know. There's so much going on… and the simplest things are stressing me," Her voice cracked. His hands were clutching the back of her chair while he stood in between her knees, looking down helplessly. Nothing he could say would make everything ok. He was no good at that. Not when he needed to be anyway. Instead, he swooped down in one quick motion.

There was nothing sweet or passionate about the kiss. Their lips devoured each other; tongues fighting for dominance, the need for oxygen forgotten, clothes only proved to be an irritation. When suddenly, Jughead remembered the table- such a better vantage point. Swiping away a few notebooks, he hoisted her onto the surface, hands moving to the hem of her shirt as she trailed wet, hot kisses along his jaw, moving her hands underneath his hat. He grabbed both of her thighs, hoisting them higher above his hips, causing her to scoot further up the desk as he leaned further in, covering her body with his. He kissed along her collar bone, allowing her time to grasp her breath.  
"I'm sorry," She panted from above him.  
"I'm sorry too," he said, drawing away from her body, helping her to sit upright. "You can tell me anything you know. Even if you think it's nothing," he smiled, tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear.  
"I know. Thanks, Juggie." She smiled, pressing her cheek against his chest, wrapping her arms tightly around him. He kissed her forehead, resting his chin atop her head, and as they embraced the project and irrelevant stress was forgotten about.

 **I know it's a bit short, and the previous chapter was as well. But I figured two short chapters would make up for it. Anyway, please review, thanks. Also, this prompt was given to me by jennimisk on tumblr, so thank you** **?**


	5. Chapter 5: Bookstore

**I'm hitting a bit of writing-block, so I'm going to try something new. Tell me whether I should go back to writing like the previous chapters. These might be bit shorter, but I'll try to make them if possible. For some of these, I'm going to take them completely out of context- like this one, it'll be their first meeting as such.**

 ** _Bookstore AU:_**

Elizabeth Cooper leaned against the till, watching. She loved her job. Since she was fourteen, Betty had been working in the local bookstore- part time during the school term, and around the clock during the summer. The owner gave her free reign of everything, deeming her a trustworthy employee, who treated the store as though it was her own. His claims were true; she adored the shop. Each morning, she arrived a half an hour early, to open and take down her latest novel, curl up in the corner on a plush arm chair and just read. It was an escape. Not just reading- you could do that anywhere- but the store. Her family life wasn't exactly perfect and any chance to get out was a blessing. Yes, she loved her parents but they were too domineering.

The store offered an escape like none other. During the quiet hours, she would lean back- as she was doing now- and observe the customers; imagining their story. An old man walked in, hovelled over his walking stick, shuffling across the dark maple-wood floor. His trousers were pulled high, by his braces, and his white shirt was neatly ironed and tucked in. He wore a green serge jacket, and a cap. Betty imagined that he was a widower, who spent his time sitting across from an empty seat- reserved for his wife- while he read her favourite books.

A little girl, with her blonde hair braided in two plaits, skipped through the door, wearing a pink pleated skirt, knee-high white socks, glittery shoes, and a Barbie back-pack slung over her shoulders. Betty imagined that she lived a few blocks away, and although every other girl was playing dress-up or dolls, this little girl would lay on her bed reading for the evening.

The activity of imaging their lives was rather mundane. She imagined nothing exciting or out of the ordinary; just simple, ordinary lives. Betty thought of it as inventing characters from real people on the spot. Not that she would ever put pen to paper and bring these characters to life- no, journalism was her forte.

However, there was one exception. Every day, at the exact same time- three fifteen, to be exact- a boy would enter the store. But he was different. He captured her attention like no other. The boy in question had dark, luscious hair, mostly concealed by the same grey beanie. He would lurk in, and to others Betty could sense an aura of intimidation and curiosity. Mothers would gently place a hand of their children's shoulders, ushering them closer. But that did nothing to influence Betty's perception. When she imagined the life, he led outside of the bookstore, it didn't involve anything menacing or threatening to justify other's concerns. No. Betty imagined that this boy, was just misunderstood. Anyone who knew his love for reading would look down upon him, and said hobby wasn't exactly obvious from his appearance. The boy would allow others to form their opinions, never really caring. Books were his escape. But there was something undeniably dark and mysterious about him that enthralled Betty. She wanted- _needed-_ to know more.

Betty had never heard him speak. It was the same every day. He would navigate his way to the crime section, skim his fingers along the spines of the books, closing his eyes, before stopping at random and wedging the book loose. He never looked at the cover, immediately turning it over to read the blurb before deeming it worthy enough to read. Once he had chosen a book, he would settle down into one of the armchairs- the very same one that Betty occupied every morning, and otherwise was generally vacant. A strand of his dark hair would fall loose from the hat, touching his sharp cheekbone, and the only sound to be heard would be the crinkling of pages.

Jughead Jones could feel the blonde watching him, _again._ Although, they had never conversed, he felt as though he knew her. Well, he knew of her. Elizabeth Cooper; the perfect girl next door- perfect grades, perfect home life, perfect appearance. What wasn't to love? Especially, the fact that although she was prim and perfect, she never subscribed to it. How many cheerleaders read? It was undeniably attractive. He had read her articles in the school newspaper, and every week he would cut them out and add them to a pile of newspaper clippings in his desk drawer. She was a talented writer.

The book he was reading had seemed interesting when he'd opened the first page, but with thoughts of Elizabeth Cooper how could he concentrate on the words? He wanted to build up the courage to just go over and talk to her. But it wasn't that simple. Even though they attended the same school, he rarely set eyes on her. She was always surrounded by her friends, and he was lurking through the hallways, head down, going unnoticed. So how was he to know how she would react if he struck up a conversation? What would they even talk about? He had absolutely no experience with girls, and didn't know the first thing about impressing them. He had never wanted to, until now.

Betty drummed her fingers against the desk, still watching him. The shop had nearly cleared out. The mystery boy had settled down with the book at least an hour ago, and since nearly everyone else just purchased the books and left, he was the sole customer. Not that Betty had any problem with customers sitting to read. That was what the store had become known for- a book store with the same characteristics as a library. But if he would just come up to the till and buy a book, then there would be a blatant excuse to talk to him. She grabbed a pile of books, stacked at the edge of the till, that had been discarded throughout the day. Betty began her rounds, going from each shelf, restocking the books, when she came to the shelf in front of him.  
"Any good?" she asked, glancing over her shoulder.  
"Huh?" He asked, looking up.  
"The book…is it any good?" She asked again.  
"Cliched." He shrugged, closing the book, and leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees.  
"Have you read any of the books here?" It was a stupid question, he already knew the answer. She was an avid reader. But he had to maintain the pretence that he didn't already know loads about her. An introduction should not reveal the fact that he had been pining after her for the past year.  
"Most of them. I read them in the mornings, though personally I prefer the romantic novels." She smiled, tip toeing to reach the top shelf.  
"I'm more partial to crime," he shrugged when Betty lost her balance, dropping the pile of books in her arms, and losing the grip on the book she'd been trying to put into the top shelf. Jughead crouched down to pick up the books and handed the pile to her, while taking the other book from her hand and reaching up to put it back.  
"Thank you," She smiled, looking down at her feet, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, before turning to walk back to the counter.

"Do you want to…maybe…I was thinking…we could… go to Pop's diner when you finish?" He asked, scratching the back of his neck, and not making eye contact.  
"I'd love to. I'll just finish cleaning up and we can go," she beamed- finally glad to have broken their year long silence. _Maybe now I can figure out the real story behind the dark, mysterious boy._


	6. Chapter 6: Soulmates

**_Ch.6: Soulmate au_**

Betty woke completely at peace, but confused. In her dream, she had been walking along the sea shore, hands interlaced with someone. But when she had looked up- considering the slight height difference- their face had been blurred out. Betty couldn't determine a single distinctive feature. All she knew, was that they had walked along the beach, the feeling of the sand filtering between her toes, as the waves crashed around their ankles, and there had been a conversation but now that she was awake she couldn't recall what they had discussed.

The brown picket fence ran along the length of the street, as snow fell silently around them. The world was engulfed in white- draining the colour from everything. Her gloved hand was grasped tightly in that of the man. Again, his face was blurred out, but Betty laughed along to his joke. Even in the dream, it was a strange sensation. She knew it was a dream, because in a sense she felt like a spectator- considering she couldn't hear or see what the man looked like- but on the other hand, it felt so realistic. The man led her up a path way to a quant coffee shop. Betty followed, unwinding her scarf, and laying it over the back of her chair, as the barista served them two mugs of hot chocolate. The man reached across the table, holding her hand. Before anything else could happen, she woke up.

Veronica smiled, handing her a bouquet of flowers. Alice Cooper stood in the corner of the room beaming at her, while holding a camera. Betty couldn't determine what was happening. She spun around, trying to find any indication, when she saw a massive white train trailing down a red carpet. She was getting married. Betty turned back to face the massive oak doors, which swung open, continuing the length of the red carpet. Veronica and Archie, arms linked, stepped onto the isle. Still in an utter state of confusion, Betty followed suit, linking arms with her father and walking down the isle. Faces of everyone she knew turned to watch her, and she tried to smile but how could she when she didn't even know who awaited her at the altar. Looking up, she squinted, only to find the groom looking down at his shoes, nervously. Archie- the best man- elbowed him, and when he did look up… _his face was blurred out!_

"You got married!" Veronica gushed. "Oh Archie, we were best man and maid of honour!" She squealed and Betty buried her head in her hands.  
"Ronnie!" She complained, mortified, that the whole room had heard. She was only confiding in her friend about the confusing, recurring dreams. She didn't need everyone else to know.  
"You what?" Jughead asked, sitting down wrapping an arm around her.  
"Betty's having these dreams…" Veronica started but Betty started shaking her head, with wide eyes. "And…" Veronica smirked, continuing, "there was this guy but with a blurred out face and last night they got married."  
"It's nothing. Just stupid dreams." Betty dismissed, leaning further into Jughead, resting her head on his shoulder.  
"They're not nothing!" Veronica threw her arms in the air. "They're linked to soulmates. Maybe you've already met your soulmate." She winked.

Jughead tried to keep a straight face. Soulmates. Betty Cooper his soulmate. Was it possible? _You've been having the same dreams, don't lie to yourself,_ his inner conscience taunted. But nothing had ever been that easy for him. Finding your soulmate- who was coincidentally, already the love of your life- it was just too easy to be true, even if he wanted it.

 **I know- it's really short...and cheesy! Sorry. But I'll be posting another chapter this evening to make up for it. Anyway, I got the idea because the recurring dreams kept happening to me- and I really hope the soulmate theory behind it is true. Anyway, please, please review and let me know what you think.**


	7. Chapter 7: His clothes

**This prompt was given to me by zirta on tumblr, thanks. The prompt: Betty wearing only Jug's flannel and beanie. Please review.**

 ** _Ch.7: His Clothes_**

 ** _One:_**

It was the second semester, of their third year at university. Betty was studying journalism, and Jughead had received a scholarship for creative writing. The respective buildings for lectures were relatively close on campus, meaning that sharing an apartment was more than convenient. Though their lectures didn't always coincide.

Jughead nearly lost all self-control when he arrived back to their apartment, at two o'clock. Betty, who everyone else perceived to be prudish- though Jughead knew better- was dancing around wearing nothing but his flannel shirt and beanie. Usually, it frustrated him to no ends when someone else took his beanie, except for Betty.

The shirt skimmed her thighs, and the buttons- tied hastily- left little to the imagination. Her cleavage was visible, as the shirt swooped low. It fell loosely around her frame, but when she swung her hips to the music, the material clung to her, highlighting her curves. The sight of her in his flannel drove his imagination wild; and he no longer saw her dancing in their living room, but sitting on the counter with her legs around his torso, the shirt riding higher; or lying on the couch with her back arched, as he hovered over her, hands roaming freely beneath the shirt. Jughead bit back a moan, as he focused on the reality of the situation.

The beanie slipped further, and she lifted a hand- causing the flannel to move higher, giving him a glimpse of her ass- as she secured it in place, hanging loosely- imitating the way he wore it. Though the shirt provoked less-than-gentleman fantasies, the beanie only tugged at his heart, because it made her look plain adorable.

A certain possessiveness came over him, seeing her wearing _his_ clothes. He never viewed her as an object or possession, Betty was fiercely independent. But Jughead couldn't help himself sometimes. She was _his_. Betty Cooper had somehow stuck by him for the past four years, and god he hoped she hung around for so many more years to come.

Jughead untied his combat boots and placed them by the door, so as not to make a sound. He then proceeded to tiptoe over to her, and caught her around the waist, tickling her.  
"JUGGIE!" She screamed laughing. "How long have you been standing there?"  
"Long enough," he smirked, pressing a kiss on her shoulder.

 ** _Two:  
_** Jughead woke to the sun streaming through the curtains, and Betty Cooper entangled in his arms.  
"Betty!" Veronica called. Betty didn't stir. Damn her, being a deep sleeper.  
"Betty, love, wake up." He whispered leaning over her. Nothing. "Baby come on," he shook her by the shoulders.  
"What?" She growled, rolling over, burying her head in the pillow.  
"Ronnie's here. Get dressed."  
Betty shot into action. Scrambling out of bed, and grabbing the nearest item of clothing; being Jughead's flannel shirt. Glancing in the mirror quickly, she could do nothing to tame her hair, and slipped her feet into a pair of slippers before disappearing downstairs. Jughead leaned over the side of the bed and grabbed his pants before walking towards the top of the staircase.  
"Betty, Betty, Betty." Veronica reprimanded. "Under your parent's roof and everything," she tutted.  
"Oh, shut up." Betty laughed. "You know my mom's away." Jughead could just imagine her folding her arms across her chest and rolling her eyes.

He heard the two girls walk into the kitchen, so he followed.  
"Morning Jughead," Veronica smiled, raising an eyebrow, peering over her coffee mug.  
"Fun night?" She teased. He ignored her and continued to go over and boil the kettle.  
"All your missing now Betts is the beanie," she laughed. Betty disappeared without a word, and reappeared, leaning against the doorway, sporting the beanie.

"Oh, very hot," Veronica laughed, "don't you think?" She asked turning to Jughead, but he just smiled. Yes, in private he could greatly appreciate the sight, but he never was one for expressing such thoughts around others.

 ** _Three:_** **  
**Jughead Jones walked downstairs to find his wife wearing his flannel shirt- which had become the norm- while bouncing their six-month-old daughter on her hip. He rested a hand on her opposite hip, kissing her cheek.  
"Morning, love," he smiled, reaching to take the baby from her. Jughead's heart swelled at the sight of the blue-eyed baby. He hadn't come off this permanent high since the day Betty announced she was pregnant. The nine months- aside from the cravings and mood swings- were utter bliss, and on the 23rd April, Jughead truly realised his capacity for love when Lily Jones was finally born.

"I better change, my mom will be over soon." She announced. But Jughead wrapped his free arm around her waist, pulling her close to gather her in a passionate kiss. Even after years, that flannel did wonders for her. She pushed away from his chest laughing. "I really do have to," she protested before scurrying off quickly.

Jughead sat down at the kitchen table, turning his baby girl around to face him. Then proceeding to make silly faces and chatter away in his goofiest baby voice, causing the girl's shrill laughter to echo around the kitchen. He could hear Betty coming down the stairs and turned his attention back to his daughter.  
"Mommy was very mean, wasn't she baby? Mommy knows how much I like the shirt." He smirked as he caught a glimpse of her walking through the doorway, but he didn't dare look away from Lily. However, that also meant he didn't notice Betty approaching, with the beanie in hand. She slipped it onto the back of the baby's head, so that it wouldn't fall over her eyes, considering how unproportioned it was. Jughead burst out laughing.  
"Both my girls like wearing my hat, huh?" He smiled, kissing Lily's cheek.

 **So out of context again, but I'll eventually go back to the current time in Riverdale. Hope you liked it, please review.**


	8. Chapter 8: The Disappearing Act

**_Ch.8: The Disappearing Act_**

No one knew where he was. It had been three days and none of us could get into contact with Jughead. Archie said that on Thursday evening he'd promised he would meet him at home, after going to Pop's with me. But he didn't show. We'd expected him to at least make an appearance at school the following day, but no luck. I was starting to worry at this stage. His phone had been disconnected and I was beginning to fear the worst.

Sunday evening, I knocked on the Andrews' door, ringing my hands together. I needed to settle this now.  
"Hi, Betty, what's-" before Archie could finish, I grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him with me down the street. "Where are we going?" He asked.  
"To find Jughead." I declared.  
"Betts, he does this. He disappears and needs space."  
"I need to know that he's ok. Are you not the least bit worried?" I asked horrified, that his best friend was ok with his unexplained departure.  
"You're right." He resigned, and I let go of his wrist, now that he would willingly follow me.

The trailer site was abandoned at this hour. I peered through the windows, trying to decipher whether someone was home, but it was difficult to tell with the blinds. Instead, biting my tongue, I knocked purposefully on the door. No response.  
"Maybe we should just come back…" I whispered, suddenly reconsidering. Archie shook his head, and shoved the door open himself.

"Hi guys," Jughead said, smiling, from the couch. I dug my nails into the palms of my hand. Why was I mad rather than relieved? He was acting so laid back; as though he had only left us an hour ago.  
"Where have you been?" I gritted out, digging my nails further into my skin- restraining the anger. He walked towards me, taking my hands in his and unfurling them, kissing my knuckles, and shaking his head. Archie turned his back on us, walking towards the kitchen area, trying to find something to occupy himself.  
"I've been here the whole time," he explained. "Sorting things out," he added.  
"Next time tell someone first," I sighed; the anger passing, leaving only the sense of relief. I had never noticed before, but when we were only friends- well more of acquaintances, really- Jughead would disappear for a week or more. I had been curious, but until now, I'd never been so panicked about it. Nothing Archie would've said would've been any consolation. I needed him, face to face, reassuring me that he was safe. I couldn't lose him.

"Are you ok?" Jughead asked, reaching up, caressing my cheek. His eyebrows were scrunched together, and he was crouching to my height, looking deep in my eyes, trying to determine my thoughts.  
"Just relieved," I smiled, shaking my head, grasping the cuff of his jacket, and smothered his lips with mine. I wanted to tell him. But it would ruin the moment. Not yet, anyway. Usually, I would've drawn back, content at this stage, but I couldn't. I tilted my head, gasping for air, but never wanting it to end. I moved a hand to the back of his neck, holding him in place, as I deepened the kiss. It was still sweet; tongues entangling and drawing back, rather than fighting for dominance, but my sheer desperation to have him back must've been obvious.  
"Whoa," he whispered, leaning his forehead against mine.

"You can say that again," FP said from the couch. We jumped apart, and I suddenly felt self-conscious; how long had he been watching?  
"Oh, sorry Mr. Jones. Archie and I just came to see Jughead," I stumbled over the words awkwardly, as the older man just smirked.  
"Archie's gone dear," he grinned nodding behind us. When had he left? "Would you like to stay for dinner?" FP added.  
"Betty has dinner waiting for her." Jughead interrupted. "I'll walk you home," he grabbed his jacket, thrown over a chair, and made his way towards the door.

"What happened?" I asked, grasping his hand.  
"My dad. He's trying to fix things. I figured I'd make it easier by going home for a bit, making sure he stayed on track. I cleared out all the beer, made sure he went to work. I'm sorry I didn't call. Habit," he shrugged. I hated how withdrawn he could be sometimes. The weight of the world could be weighing down on him, and rather than confiding in someone, he would shield himself from others. Jughead's always been there for me; a shoulder to cry on; someone to talk to; always involving himself in my family problems. I wanted him to just let me in. I knew he talked to Archie, but there couldn't be a messenger between us.  
"Juggie, if there's anything. _Anything,_ you need to talk about, I'm here." I said, stopping in our tracks to face him. He was looking down again. I held his face between my hands, forcing him to look at me. "I want to help, or just be here at least. Please. Promise, you'll talk about it at least." I added. I hated interfering, but I needed him to know that this moral support was not solely on his part. Without a word, he nodded, almost ashamed that he hadn't already, and kissed my forehead.

A few cars rumbled by, but this hour of the evening was always quiet. People seemed to stay indoors more often since Jason's death. The sombre atmosphere still smothered the town. Street lights were diluted by the mist, and the emptiness of the streets created a threatening atmosphere. However, Jughead's presence calmed me. He brushed his thumb across the back of my hand, comforting. He saw past my dark side- the renewed evidence across the palms of my hands didn't freak him- instead he stabilised me. How had I managed all this time without someone as supporting as him. Oh yes, I'd been blinded by my 'love' for Archie. Archie was sweet, and he cared from me, but not in the way Jughead can.

"I'll see you in school tomorrow?" I asked, as we approached the gate to my house. He nodded, biting his bottom lip, as if holding back something.  
"After the first three classes," he decided, nodding as though contemplating again. He leaned in covering my lips with his chastely. I tiptoed up, bringing my lips to his ear, building up the courage.  
"I love you," I whispered, turning on my heels quickly to avoid a reaction or reply. I'd almost blurted it out at the relief I'd felt early, but had decided against it. Too late for that now. I balled my hands into fists, almost giddy, as I shut the door quickly behind me, sinking to the floor, smiling up at the ceiling.

 **Let me know what you thank x Thanks for the support so far.**


	9. Chapter 9: Hopelessly Falling in Love

**_Ch.9: Hopelessly falling in love_**

Betty was oblivious to his efforts. Jughead was the shadow to Archie's ray of sunlight. Betty accepted Jughead's presence, yet she was encaptivated by Archie; hanging onto his every word. Jughead knew that, that evening there was only two people sitting in that booth; the blonde beauty of Riverdale High and her prince charming.

Jughead took out his laptop, typing aimlessly; his mind somewhere else entirely. Betty leaned over the table, grasping Archie's hands. He observed the way his best friend's face lit up- but never glazed over with lust, as was the case with every other cheerleader. Archie's outlook on their relationship was purely platonic, making him blind to the invaluable opportunity before him.

Maybe in another life things would turn out the way he wanted. In that world, Jellybean and his mom would be waiting for him at home. Life wouldn't be perfect, but they'd be together. Maybe, just maybe, he'd have a shot with the girl of his dreams. Jughead wouldn't have to observe from the side-lines and watch helplessly as she breaks her own heart. In this idyllic world, he would be sitting on the opposite side of the booth, with his arm wrapped around Betty Cooper. He would be the one she ran to in the halls to relay good news. He would be the first person she'd call in the morning, and the last at night. He would listen to her every thought, kiss her senseless and cherish her. He could be the one to truly appreciate her and not take her for granted.

Jughead became irritated, sitting there, knowing two sides to a hopeless love story. He wanted nothing more than to slam his fists against the table, declare his feelings and awaken her from Archie's unbeknownst spell. Archie could have any girl he wanted, and yet he was ignorant to the most deserving one. But somehow, he'd captured said girls heart; making Betty unattainable to everyone else. If only Jughead had the courage to say it all, perhaps things could be different. But he was an author and authors have a talent for bottling up their feelings- it's the only way to accurately convey a sense of human emotion through words. Would he really sacrifice all their happiness for the sake of a best-selling novel? Probably. Well, that's how he justified it at least. Betty deserved everything and so much more, yet here were two suitors- equally undeserving of her love.

Milkshake glasses emptied and refilled by the hour. But there was no change in their dynamic. Perhaps, this was how things should play out. Betty would wait. She would patiently watch as Archie fooled around with the fairer sex, until he finally felt ready to settle. Then, and only then, would Archie Andrews shift his platonic relationship with Betty to something more. But why was Archie entitled to stray from his destiny? Could Betty not broaden her options and take notice of the boy from the wrong side of the tracks? That was fool's hope. No matter how much Jughead wanted to be able to call her his, he knew that in ten years' time their regretful situation would not have changed. The three of them would be sitting in the exact same position, in the same booth. The only difference? A sparkling wedding band on each of the hands intertwined on the table, while a child with flaming hair and emerald eyes sat across from him.

(Time Lapse)

The blush pink dress caught in the wind; the skirt wrapping around her thighs, as Betty Cooper wistfully glided across the car park, arm in arm with Archie. The blonde gazed at the latter, while said boy tipped his head back in laughter, engaging in deep conversation with Veronica Lodge. Jughead wanted to move from his spot on the wall, where he observed them, but he couldn't. He couldn't move, because it was against all morals- dances, including the winter formal, were not something Jughead enjoyed or should ever attend. Again, like every other time, he let her go. It was blatantly obvious to everyone else. Archie was infatuated with the New Yorker, while his long-time best friend witnessed the blossoming relationship. The trio disappeared inside the building, consumed by the music and elegantly dressed students.

Jughead didn't know why he stayed. Something held him in place, watching the silent building. Strobe lights flashed from the high, narrow gym windows, but the music didn't drift to his spot across the car park, aside from whenever the door was opened or closed. The night was calm, and nothing disrupted his peace- time to write.

His fingers stilled over the keys, glancing up at the burst of volume from the building. The doors swung shut behind a nimble figure, and a pink silhouette dashed across the lot, blindly. Jughead stood instinctively. Betty ran in no particular direction, trying desperately to dry her eyes while putting distance between the building and herself. The blonde came barrelling into his chest, and he stumbled, tightening his arms around her waist, and moving a hand to caress the back of her head against his chest.

"Oh Juggie," she sobbed, wetting his jumper with her tears. "I'm so stupid." She declared, and he leaned back, hooking his finger beneath her chin, tilting her head up to look at him.  
"Listen to me. You're far from stupid, and you're beautiful. Betty you've got to stop. You're so much better and stronger than all of the white noise." He said forcefully, but meaningful. Betty sobbed quietly, considering his unrelenting, loving stare. Jughead's eyes met hers, meaningful and pleading, while he pursed his lips, keeping one hand on her waist and the other beneath her chin. Before she could reconsider, Betty closed the distance between them, taking his bottom lip between hers. He groaned into her mouth, moving a hand to her lower back, pressing them closer together.

(Time Lapse)

The following Friday evening, Jughead was no longer sulking over the rim of his laptop. Instead, he sat proudly, arm draped around the blonde, though still not engaging in the conversation, too absorbed by his luck.

 **I know I made slight reference to dialogue in the show, but just trying to capture the essence of the characters. Especially Juggie since he so rarely expresses such deep emotions. Please let me know what you think x**


	10. Chapter 10: Awkward Encounters

**_Ch.10: Awkward Encounters_**

 **I know it's short, sorry. I'll update again tomorrow.**

 ** _One:  
_** Betty regretted inviting Jughead to dinner. She had regretted it the moment she'd walked into the sitting room. Before, this situation would've been awkward, now it was just plain mortifying and shameful. The photo albums. But more specifically, the baby album.

Jughead sat, elbows propped up on his knees, leaning over the book, as Alice Cooper made sure to point out the best- or in Betty's opinion: the worst. A smile played on her boyfriend's lips, as he withheld laughter; sensing her presence.

Betty's perfection shone through. She didn't need him seeing rolls of fat along her thighs, or mounting bubbles all over her face in the bath imitating characters, and especially not the ones with Archie. Her parents had felt that it was necessary to remember the time Archie and Betty had gotten 'married' in the back yard- capturing Betty in all her ceremonial, four-year-old, beauty, adoring a white make-shift wedding dress. No. Jughead was not vain, but nonetheless Betty would rather imprint images of her clad in something a little lacier, sexier- not diapers and wedding dresses.

She leaned against the door frame, burying her head in her hands, as Jughead finally erupted, clutching his ribs, rocking forward while his shrill laughter rang around the room. Betty tried holding the scowl, but the unaccustomed sound of his contagious laughter infected her.

 ** _Two:  
_** Betty arched into his touch, curling her toes in the sheets, biting her lip to withhold the sensual noises that had been slipping past her lips. This was new. New to both. Betty always liked how reserved and gentleman-like Jughead treated her, but with his hands searing her skin, pleasuring her in ways she hadn't known possible, not a respectful thought came to mind, nor did she want him to stop.

Jughead's lips latched onto her collarbone, and his other hand shoved the material of her shirt higher, brushing against her skin suggestively. His mind raced and every few moments he drew back, looked deep into her eyes, and raised an eyebrow- always waiting for permission. Betty's heart swelled at how considerate he was being, but her impatience was building. His lips trailed down her skin, across the curve of her breasts, and he reached behind her to unclasp her bra. She could sense he was going to request _again_ before proceeding, and instead she knotted her fingers through his hair, holding him firmly at eye level with her chest.  
"Shit-" Betty sighed, tossing her head back, and he reached for the zipper of her jeans when the door swung open.

The pair scrambled apart. Betty yanked her shirt in place, and drew her knees to her chest. Jughead, still shirtless, couldn't make eye contact with Alice.  
"Wh-…when did you get home?" Betty stuttered, fumbling with a loose thread on her quilt, not meeting her mother's firm glare.  
"Just a moment ago. I think it's best you make your way home," she added sternly. Jughead grabbed his shirt, that had been discarded by her dresser and glanced around. Betty, sensing his distress, reached over to the bed post, and handed him the infamous beanie. Nodding to both, Jughead disappeared downstairs without a word.

 ** _Three:  
_** Alice sat down at the edge of her daughter's bed and glanced around the room, composing herself. She ran her hands across the pencil skirt, removing the non-existent wrinkles, and nodded promptly.  
"Betty, there are certain things that boys expect." She began.  
"MOM!" Betty hissed, her cheeks flaming red.  
"You're at a certain age when they want you to...perform acts." Alice continued, despite Betty's protestations, choosing her words wisely. Betty resided, knowing there was no point arguing, though she'd presumed sex ed. should've suffice, not her mother's humiliating intervention. "You have a future to think about; college, a career, travel. You don't need to bring a baby into that." _You don't need to end up like Polly_ , hung in the air. Betty had been shocked but accepting of her mother's recent blasé mood. However, her 'rendezvous' that evening set Alice Cooper into autopilot, resuming her role as the overbearing, perfectionist mother.

Betty had sat and nodded, promising not to let any boy take 'advantage' of her, as Alice had put it. For the most part, however, she had drifted away; remembering Jughead's hands… The full impact of her mother's fears and warnings did not register with the blissful, love-sick blonde.

 **Please review x**


	11. Chapter 11: An Old Flame

**_Ch.11: An Old Flame_**

Jughead paced back and forth. Betty Cooper was back in town. It had been five years and seven months- to be exact- since he'd last seen her. Jughead had heard nothing of her; whether she was dating, married, had kids. He knew nothing. Archie had been hesitant to even mention her return. Everyone was cautious when discussing the Coopers around Jughead. It wasn't that it had been a bad break up- not for Betty anyway. Jughead had led her to believe that the decision was mutual. He couldn't hold her back from the opportunities that had awaited her in New York, and yet he couldn't follow her either due to his family obligations. For anyone who said that a friendship could be maintained after a failed relationship was wrong. Well, perhaps it's possible for those who were never suited to be together in the first place. Betty had never been his friend. They'd been friendly. And after knowing what it was like to be her boyfriend he could never return to anything less. It was easier to rip off the band aid; clean and quick rather than prolonging his heartache.

Familiar faces stood around the grave, staring into the dark abyss of nothingness, where Hal Cooper would soon be laid to rest. Jughead, head bowed, stood in the back watching her. Betty clutched Polly's arm, resting her head on her sister's shoulder, bleary eyed. A little girl with locks of flame had her arms wrapped around Polly, looking around in confusion. Jughead felt guilt consume him as he couldn't help but delight at the fact that there was no man or children to comfort Betty. _Why would she still want you just because there's no one with her now? There could be someone waiting back in New York. Regardless, single, or not, Betty may have just finally come to her senses and realised that she's too good for you!_

The burial was over in moments. Jughead had been too consumed by his tormented mind- deciding whether to confront her. There was a queue of the town's people gathering to offer condolences to the family. All he had to do was blend in. Consumed by grief she might not even notice his presence.

Betty discretely glanced around the grave yard- looking for the one person she _needed_ to be there. Veronica and Archie had visited her the night before, but had avoided any topics concerning the boy that still held her heart. Yes, Betty had tried to move on. It had been her decision to end the relationship, and then, feeling obligated she dated around. No one compared. Yes, the men she'd been with were far classier; brought her to five star restaurants, owned penthouses and bought her elegant jewellery. Despite trying to fall for them she couldn't. Her heart was a marionette puppet, and Romeo had never lost his grasp of the strings.

"Thank you," Betty smiled weakly; robotically. She had only arrived home yesterday and it felt as though the entire time was spent listening to people apologise, as though they were at fault for her father's death. No one killed him. No one could cause a heart attack. So why were they all apologising? It frustrated her to no end. She knew it was the polite thing to do, but it was also the most inaccurate thing to say to a grieving family member.  
"Are you ok?" A voice asked. The question alone was refreshing amongst all the reparations. Betty glanced up to find the boy- man- with the beanie. Blame the grief, or time, but she threw herself into his arms, locking her wrists around his neck, heaving tearless sighs against his chest.

Jughead couldn't move. She was in his arms. Despite the circumstances, he knew that the last time he'd been this happy was the day his first novel had been published. Unfortunately, he was holding up the queue.  
"Want to talk later?" He whispered, not having the will power to let go just yet. She nodded, mute. "I'll meet you there whenever you're ready." He nodded, shook Polly's hand, and left, knowing he couldn't tear her away from her family at that moment.

Fearing she'd changed her mind, Jughead's eyes never left the door as his fingers drummed against the table.  
"Not sure whether you'll wear away your fingers or the table first," Pop chuckled, patting his shoulder, as he passed, offering a weak smile. Too occupied with the suspense he simply nodded in acknowledgment. The bell chimed as she stepped inside, unsure. Jughead stood, uncertain of what to do next. _Since when do you stand to greet someone? She's seen you now, fool._

The shadow of a smile ghosted over her face, as she slid into the seat across from him, magnetically drawing him to his.  
"How have you been?" She asked, attentively, taking in his appearance for the first time. Stubble scattered his jawline- not unkempt or rugged, but aged. He was all sharp, defined. He had filled out, still lean but also muscular- as was visible from the form fitting grey shirt, rolled at the elbows, with the top button opened. Notably, he had a new habit of brushing his thumb across his chapped bottom lip, in contemplation.

Jughead didn't know how to answer. Here she was, coping with the loss of her father, and she was asking him how he was coping! Only Betty would have compassion like that. In truth, he hadn't moved on and in turn hadn't been content with life. Yes, there were positive aspects to his life, and certain things had improved beyond what he'd ever imagined. But the negative overruled any of the good.

"I've been okay. Busy with work." He shrugged, dismissively.  
"I read your book." Betty stated. "Definitely worth the secrecy," she added, remembering the times he'd turned the screen away from others insisting: _"_ _no one reads it until it's finished."_  
"How are you holding up?" He asked, overlooking the compliment.  
"I hadn't seen him in a year." She withdrew into herself; a hollow, confused expression washing over her features. "I was so caught up in all the stupid things like work. I took it for granted that he'd always be there. I know he wasn't exactly the perfect example of a good man, but all of his flaws are just…it's so irrelevant now that he's gone." Her eyes were glazed over. Betty was no longer in the booth, but trapped in her own blame and guilt. Jughead reached across the table, resting his hands over hers, brushing his thumb across her wrist.

They had sat for an hour, in mostly silence. Jughead was cautious of overstepping and knew that she just needed someone to be there for her. When Pop's finally closed, he offered to walk her home, resting a hand on her lower back. Betty didn't seem to notice that he'd shrugged off the denim jacket, and had slung it around her shoulders, yet when they stood outside the gate she was clutching the lapels.  
"Thank you." She whispered turning to face him. Neither were too sure what to do. When was the last time he hadn't been around Betty and hadn't kissed her goodbye? It was the only natural thing he knew. Knowing he couldn't, what else should he have done. Shook her hand and leave her walk out of his life again? There was also the risk of annihilating all of his efforts that evening so far. Betty stepped forward, resting a hand on his shoulder and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips; firm but short. She'd barely drawn back, when Jughead hooked an arm around her waist kissing her more desperately now. She wrapped an arm around his neck. Neither wanted it to end, finally reconnecting after their lonesome five years.

 **Thank you sooooo much for the response so far** **Please review x**


	12. Chapter 12: Letting Go

**_Ch.12: Letting Go_**

Riverdale had changed drastically since their adolescence. Life had returned to normal. The small town was no longer burdened with solving a murder. Everything was secure and predictable; the way it had been. Yes, the Blossoms still held a grand, elegant memorial for their beloved son, and each year the celebrations only progressed. It had been a small ceremony the first year, and last year- on the twenty fifth anniversary- there had been a festival that spanned over the course of three days. Everyone knew how ridiculous their efforts were. Yes, there was nothing wrong with remembering Jason, but nobody was going to forget him even if the memorials were minimalised. He was memorable; first and last person to be murdered in Riverdale.

Unfortunately, some things never changed. Jughead shut the trailer door behind him, miserable. FP had been trying, but the result each time was only worse. Betty helped. The old man had a soft spot for his daughter-in-law, and family events generally motivated him to change. FP had stayed sober for the entire month leading up to their wedding, almost seventeen years ago. But it never lasted. On his way home from work, that evening, Jughead had called by- as he always did. Like most other times, his dad lay passed out on the couch, with empty beer bottles scattered across the trailer, one clutched in his arm close to his chest. Jughead felt torn. He wanted his kids to know their grandfather, which they did. However, the relationship was strained and monitored. He wanted to shield them from his childhood and ensure that they're youth was an entirely different experience, while somehow still incorporating FP. It was tough to balance it, but the last thing he wanted was to force preconceived judgement upon them. Jellybean still had not forgiven their dad, and whenever she visited, it was strictly to see her niece and nephew. That kind of a relationship wasn't healthy either.

"Mom! Where are my skinny jeans?" Lily shouted from her bedroom, as he shut the door behind him, immediately brightening up after coming from the trailer park. Betty kissed his cheek, brushing by him, rushing upstairs, with the ripped jeans draping over her shoulder. Jughead fell to the couch, as Adam ran in wearing his football jersey. The kid had definitely been influenced by Archie, because Jughead had never set foot on a pitch. Lily leaned towards the arts, like both of her parents, as she too was editor of the Blue and Gold.  
"How was your day?" he asked his son, who now sat across from him, chin resting atop his knee.  
"Good. Uncle Archie said he'd take me out for practice this evening," Adam beamed, glancing at the door impatiently.

Archie walked into the sitting room, ruffling the nine year olds sandy brown hair.  
"Ready bud?" he asked grinning down at him.  
"Is Ryan tagging along?" Jughead asked. Archie and Ronnie's son was only six, but was eager to replicate his dad's every move- including his love for the sport. Archie nodded, walking towards the door.  
"Oh, before I forget, tell Lily I said good luck with the date tonight." He winked before leaving.

Jughead stood by the door immobilised. His little girl…dating? Hardly. Impossible. Not only did he want to shield his children from his father, but also from a world of heartache. He couldn't imagine those green eyes rimmed with tears because of some boy. No one would ever be good enough for her. But why couldn't she have waited another year, or preferably until college. Not all boys were as chivalrous in their efforts to win the girl, like he had been. No, the vast majority only had one thing on their minds. He ground his teeth at the thought of some jock showing up at the door, too ignorant to even acknowledge Jughead's presence, too focused on the goal. The boy would lead his daughter to believe the date was genuine before adding her to the book of conquests the following day. As Jughead knew, things had gone back to normal, and small towns- including the culture of its citizens- never did change.

Lily Jones, beaming, walked down stairs. Her dark hair was let down from its usual pony tail and she wore a tight fitted top, beneath a zip up hoody, and skinny jeans. Had Archie not mentioned the date, there was nothing to signify her plans for the evening, as she was dressed in her daily attire.  
"Who's the boy?" he glared, folding his arms across his chest. Lily looked towards her mother, panicked and almost betrayed. Her mom wasn't supposed to tell him about it. Betty shook her head discreetly in her daughter's direction, equally as confused, before intervening.

"Juggie." Betty scolded walking towards him, resting one hand on his chest and the other on his shoulder. "Shane seems like a lovely boy, they're only going to the cinema," she tried reassuring her husband, but he simply scoffed in response. _Only_ the cinema, he rolled his eyes.

Before he could protest further, the doorbell rang. Betty moved to greet Shane, to avoid a confrontation.  
"Mrs. Jones, lovely to meet you," Jughead heard from the doorway. He peered over his wife's shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse of him. Lily fidgeted nervously, tip toeing up to glance in the mirror, patting her hair and modifying anything she thought imperfect. She debated running upstairs to grab a jacket, but didn't want to leave her parents alone with him any longer than was necessary.  
"Ready," she smiled, resting a hand on her mother's arm, side-stepping her.  
"I'll have her home by ten," Shane smiled.

Betty smirked as she returned inside. Jughead had moped off somewhere, sulking to himself. He tried to appear indifferent in relation to everything, but he couldn't hide his distaste towards this.  
"Isn't she a little young to be dating?" His voice venomous, appearing behind her in the kitchen. She turned to face him, leaning against the counter, bracing her hands on the ledge.  
"Jug we were that age," Betty smiled, as that had done nothing to sway his opinion. Jughead would think Lily was too young if she were ten years older.  
"It's not the same." He scowled. Betty stepped towards him, kissing his jaw, then his cheek, his cupid's bow and finally tugged on his bottom lip to distract him. Jughead pressed his fingers into her hips, drawing her closer, forgetting about the predicament.

 **Please review if you think I should turn this chapter into a two-shot x Can be third person, or Lily's POV**


	13. Chapter 13: The Assistant (office AU)

**_Ch.13: The Assistant (Office AU)_**

 **I've been asked to turn my last chapter into a two-shot, and I will get around to doing that, but I decided that I wanted to post this one first. Hope you like it.**

"Ms. Cooper, your new assistant is in the reception area." Theresa, the lady from the front desk, informed her over the phone. Betty's perfectly manicured nail hit the receiver.  
"Send him in."

Sifting through a stack of articles, abandoned by her last assistant, she turned at the sound of the door clicking. Betty sighed indignantly, expecting some awkward boy, fresh out of college, eager for money but with an evident lack of experience. She had too much on her plate right now to be babysitting. However, the man that walked through the door had far surpassed her expectations.

His black, ebony hair was unruly and luscious, with a stray curl resting against his temple. He wore a crisp, white shirt, accentuating his lean, toned build. The complementary suit pants and polished shoes affirmed his desire to impress on the first day, while the bed hair and lack of tie pleased her; not too prim and perky. A job wasn't all based off one's clothes, but it was certainly a good indication of their character.

"Forsythe Jones, pleased to meet you." He greeted, dropping the brief case into the lone chair in the corner, striding towards her with purpose. For once she was startled. Someone beneath her power had never been so forward with her.  
"Betty Cooper. Now I'll run you through the kind of jobs expected…" She began, nervously, smoothing out her black pencil skirt as she rounded the desk, needing the comfort of her large, plush chair to confirm her authority because she was certain that it had all but disintegrated upon his arrival.

A week later, Betty's nerves still hadn't settled when in his presence. Forsythe- or Jughead, as he reminded her endlessly- was the perfect employee. While he wasn't directly working in the throes of the business, it was evident that he had a great love for literature, and it had become common for him to remark upon her work.

"There's something missing," he announced, after having skimmed over the article laid out before her, as he stood behind her chair, reading over her shoulder.  
"What would that be?" Betty asked, intrigued, as she took a sip from the coffee he'd brought her.  
"They're discussing the topic, but there's no sense of their character. Yes, they offer opinions, but there's no personality to it and how are people supposed to stay interested otherwise?" He shrugged, dismissing his input immediately as he strolled over to his small set up in the corner. Betty reviewed the piece again and couldn't help but agree. He had an eye for the deeper things, not just what appeared to those on the surface. Chief editor of the New York Times, and there she was becoming utterly dependent on her assistant's opinion. Before ever passing judgement on their submissions, Betty would no longer talk to her employees without consulting Mr. Jones- who offered his opinion without request most of the time regardless.

Veronica Lodge twirled her pencil across her bottom lip, observing their interactions. Anyone who had eyes in their department was aware of it. Ms. Cooper had been known to be firm and though she was fair, she was cold and formal to those in the workplace. Had they not become friends before starting work, Veronica knew that Betty wouldn't look at her any different to the others. The fact was: the boss was falling for her assistance, and the feelings were mutual. Betty had called a meeting earlier that morning. The blonde sat at the top, listening intently to their suggestions. The door swung open and- when previously she would have ignored an intruder- she glanced up to find her personal eye candy slip in. No reprimanding for tardiness, just a bright smile, as he handed her a coffee and sat down in the corner. Veronica wanted to meddle, needing to involve herself and set them up. Had it been different circumstances, outside of the office, she would've jumped at the opportunity.

The building had almost cleared out in the last hour, every department finished for the day, except Betty. It often happened that she spent endless late nights cooped up in her office, and on the rare occasion falling asleep, hunched over the desk. Betty knew she was a workaholic and had been reminded endlessly by her friends. It was also the main reason none of her previous relationships had worked out. The paper was so much more important that flimsy date nights. Why couldn't anyone accept that it was ok to dedicate time to something you loved?

"You can head home, I'm all right by myself," she smiled, glimpsing through half closed lashes. Jughead simply shook his head, moving from his slouched position on the couch, to sit on the edge of her desk.  
"I like your company, plus you shouldn't have to be isolated because you're dedicated." He smiled down at her. Betty's breath hitched in her throat. His shirt was more dishevelled than usual and those lips…she shook her head slightly. The train of thought alone was highly improper. Relationships never worked for her, so instigating one with a colleague would only ensure disaster.

Jughead watched his boss. Her pony tail fell over her shoulder, head bowed over the work. The glow from the lamp on her desk illuminated her features; her full bottom lip drawn between her teeth, the slight tint to her flawless cheeks, the way her long lashed cast shadows on the arch of her eyebrow. He wanted to kiss every inch of her. He wanted to spend every evening, alone in that office with her, assisting her in other ways- irrelevant to the list presented to him on his first day. It was not just her distinct, luring feminine qualities that attracted him, but rather her passion. The way she treated her position as editor was endearing. Never had he seen someone so invested. He longed to be able to support her, beyond the daily coffee runs.

Betty stood, as her laptop shut down. It was one in the morning, and a loud yawn emitted from the corner of the room. Betty immediately offered him an apologetic glance but he waved it off, composing himself quickly before making his way towards her. She reached for the door and suddenly he was closer than she'd expected. Her hand stilled on the lock, as she felt his breath down her neck and could almost hear his heart thundering behind her. Slowly, calculating her movements, Betty rotated until she was staring directly at his chest, nose brushing the material of his shirt. Closer than she'd hoped for. Looking up at him, questioningly, he waited for her to protest, but when she didn't voice any concerns he dipped his head low eager to taste her lips. Betty stood, waiting, and she melted against his touch when a hand rested on her hip, his lips against hers. What started slow; testing the waters, caressing cheeks, soft, unsure kisses, turned erotic in minutes. Jughead had ripped the buttons on her blouse, hand now snuggly exploring her, beneath the constraints of her black bra, while her signature pencil skirt was cutting off her circulation, as one of her legs was hoisted up on his hip bone- stiletto grazing his thigh. Betty was sure they wouldn't have stopped there if the security guard hadn't been running patrols at that moment, shining a flashlight through her office window.

The following days were spent with longing glances across the office, when in the company of others. And, on the rare occasion when they were left alone, the pair always tried to resume where they'd left off that first night. Date nights consisted of a bottle of wine in the office, while Jughead pulled a chair up alongside her desk; both working late into the early hours. No one in the office discussed the evident relationship- because as Betty had one feared, it would be highly improper- but it was an accepted consensus in the workplace.

 **Please tell me what you think of this one. Should I continue with the AUs or do ye prefer the standard Riverdale ones? Please review x**


	14. Chapter 14: Innocent until proven guilty

**_Ch.14: Innocent until proven guilty_**

 ** _This is just what I think could possibly happen in episode twelve. I tried to incorporate some of the suggestions, but I'm sorry if I didn't manage to._**

 _It is those, who on the surface appear perfect, have the darkest secrets slumbering beneath their poised exterior. There are no secrets that time does not reveal. Riverdale harboured the greatest secrets; capable of destroying one's credibility._

 **(Continued from the final scene in the diner from episode 11)**

"Someone put it there after we left. He's being framed." Archie explained, glancing to Veronica. Betty couldn't help but feel slightly relieved. Jughead's dad was innocent. Innocent. The words rang in her ears. But there would've been no way of knowing that had her friends not betrayed them.  
"You went behind your friend's back; Jughead believed his dad- FP is not a murderer. But you couldn't accept that." Betty snapped bitterly, leaving the diner before they could protest. Archie and Veronica were only trying to help- but that didn't fix things; Jughead was out there somewhere- still under the illusion that Betty had been conspiring with them.

A thick silence hung between the pair. Veronica _hated_ how her father could control her life, even behind bars. If she had just accepted the fact that maybe, just maybe, her father hadn't orchestrated Jason Blossom's death, then perhaps FP wouldn't be spending the night in jail. Just because Hiram was a criminal didn't mean she had to demonise others. Couldn't she just move on, forget about her father's wrongdoings, and let everything unravel without interference. _You can never sit back and watch,_ she reminded herself.

"Who would want to frame FP?" Archie asked, fidgeting with a toothpick, bending it against the table, absentmindedly, watching it bounce back in resilience. Veronica didn't answer. How could she? Yes, FP wasn't the best father, but what had he done to anyone else to provoke such an accusation? Contemplating the question, watching Archie's irritating source of entertainment, she reached across the table, grabbing onto his wrist, glaring. Without a word he dropped the toothpick, looking down like a child who'd been scolded.  
"I really don't know," she confessed, softening her touch. "But we need to find out."

The following morning, Betty sat up as the first rays of morning broke through her window. She hadn't slept. She still wore the elegant, off the shoulder dress, her hair was mussed, and her mascara smudged. After hours of searching she had retired home, without having found Jughead. Alice had been sitting up, waiting for her. She'd reached out to Betty, trying again to convince her that she had played no part in FP's arrest, but Betty brushed past her. It had been hopeless to think that her mother was amending past mistakes. Everything was resurfacing again. Changing into her standard sweater and pair of jeans, Betty did nothing to improve her make up, and yanked her hair into her signature pony tail, though far more untamed than usual. Avoiding her mother's pretences she left hours too early for school.

Jughead hadn't been at the diner, and when Betty had checked the trailer he had already left- as was obvious from the ripped down tape and trashed living area. Where else could he have gone? She doubted he would've returned to the Andrews', and even if he had Betty was too proud to check for herself; remaining firm on the fact that she wouldn't talk to Veronica or Archie. Pacing the empty hall, Betty was lost in thought.

Jughead stretched, knocking the janitor's mop causing it to fall on his head. He fumbled, scrambling to catch hold of it, returning it to where it belonged. Only a month of sleeping in a properly equipped bedroom and it seemed that Jughead was incapable of falling into old habits. It was pathetic; sleeping in the school. He had nowhere else to go. Archie wouldn't be offering anytime soon, nor did he want him to. Needing to get out and move his legs, Jughead scrambled out of the cramped closet to find his blonde beauty walking in his direction, while she bit her nails- a tell tail sign that she was nervous. Jughead saw the opportunity to hide. He could pretend like he hadn't seen her, but he couldn't stay hidden forever.

"Juggie?" Betty gasped. How long had he been standing there? The two stood awkwardly, neither knowing what to say, for the first time.  
"I'm sorry about the dinner. I didn't know about the rest of it, I would've stopped them. I believed you from the start: FP _is_ innocent" Betty admitted. Jughead hesitated. Betty was the one person he thought he could trust and she had betrayed him. She had lured him and his dad into the Cooper's trap. He wanted to stay mad at her…  
"I know," he finally breathed. She took a few attentive steps in his direction. He could forgive, but he wouldn't forget. People couldn't walk all over him, just because he didn't come from the same side of the tracks as they did. He drew her against his chest, burying his face in her neck, when- like so many other times- the moment of clarity hit.  
"What did you mean by he _is_ innocent?" Jughead asked, holding her by the shoulders at arm's length.  
"Someone is framing him. Veronica and Archie searched beforehand and the gun hadn't been there."

Betty glanced around, awkwardly, as she allowed him time to absorb the information. A blue sleeping bag was strewn across the hall floor, emerging from the janitor's closet. Betty moved to inspect it. Inside, there was one of Jughead's hoodies balled up, serving as a pillow, while comics were stacked neatly in the corner beside his duffle bag and laptop. He was…  
"Jug are you sleeping here?" She asked, not able to tear her eyes from the sight.  
"Temporarily," he grunted, still pacing behind her.

Jughead was trying to wrap his head around the situation, as guilt consumed him. Last night, he had been adamant that his father was incapable of murder, but having the solitude of the night to contemplate the situation he'd led himself to believe that maybe his dad had been lying. Now that he knew otherwise, they couldn't just let him rot in the cell for a murder he hadn't committed.

Veronica stood in the trailer park for the second time in less than twenty-four hours. It looked like a crime scene. The barricade tape blew in the wind, and Archie stepped inside, to find the coffee table overturned and a vase shattered in the corner of the room.  
"What are we looking for?" Veronica asked, a sense of sickening déjà vu consuming her.  
"Not too sure," he sighed, dragging a hand over his face. His red jacket was crumpled from the night before-not having returned home after the dance- and Ronnie was still adorning her black sparkly dress.  
"Who wasn't at the dance? I mean most the town should've gone, considering it was open to past students." Archie sighed.  
"There's this old guy that lives by me, if that's any help?" she shrugged, racking her brain to think of a legit suspect.  
"Hal." Archie clicked his fingers, snapping his head in her direction.  
"Who?" Ronnie asked, sitting down, feeling nauseated by it all.  
"Betty's dad. All of our parents went except Mr. Cooper."

Betty sat on the sleeping bag, and couldn't help but note how it did little to improve the uncomfortably cold ground. It wasn't right. No one should have to succumb to this. After having tried to broach the topic several times, Jughead's cheeks tinted red and he brushed it off, disconcerted. He hadn't spoken in almost half an hour, instead crouched in front of her, chin resting atop his hands, elbows braced on his knees, contemplative.  
"We'll figure this out." She whispered, trying to break through the rough exterior- he'd had his guard up since last night.  
"Betty, the Blossoms are going to clutch onto this. They want someone to blame because it's still possible that they killed Jason. My dad is an easy target because he has no alibi!" His voice cracked and he bowed his head heaving a sigh. Betty untangled her legs, kneeling to just holding him in her arms. Jughead rested his forehead on her shoulder, letting go of the tearless, angry sobs. Betty ran a hand through his hair, the other holding him around the torso. "I love you," she added, but he only clutched onto her firmer, not responding.

Kevin sat in front of his dad's computer, with the fox and his vixen breathing down his neck, leaning closer to the screen.  
"Anything?" Veronica's voice broke through the silence. Kevin shot a cynical glance in her direction. Clearly nothing. If he had managed to hack in already, it would've been obvious. "Here let me," she shouldered him out of the way, and dragged the mouse across the screen, clicking into- what appeared to be random- files, before the folder of security videos appeared. She smirked proudly, before kicking him out of the chair, deciding that Kevin's contribution had ended after letting them into his dad's office. The first video was of the main street, outside of the Cooper's house. Hal Cooper slipped out of the house, sat into his car, and glanced around before pulling out of the drive way. What the camera had recorded to be ten minutes later, FP left with Jughead and Betty in the truck. Veronica moved on, clicking into another file that showed Hal's car leaving the town line- out of the town's security system, conveniently in the direction of the South Side.

Jughead moved to sit beside her on the bag, roughly swiping his sleeve across his eyes.  
"I love you too," he smiled, shyly, in her direction, realising he had not announced his reciprocation of her feelings. Betty didn't need to answer, instead lacing their hands together, resting her head on his shoulder. Jughead was more at ease. Even though FP was still in prison, Jughead felt a sense of comfort at knowing he was innocent.

Hal Cooper sat in complete darkness. He had closed the shutters of the Register and leaned back in his chair, glancing over the files of Jason's murder case. The very same robbed from the deputies' home. He had no other option but to frame FP Jones. There was too much at stake. Discounting the murder case, FP had essentially admitted to knowing about what Hal had forced upon Alice. FP didn't know what he was talking about. A conversation he'd been eavesdropping on was nothing. Alice hadn't been ready. They couldn't have had a child in high school. It had been rash, and stupid, but Hal had needed to shut him up.

 **I know I didn't really conclude it, but I didn't know how to tie up all of the loose strings, because four pages would've turned to twenty if I'd tried. Please let me know what you think, and leave suggestions for more one-shots. Thanks x**


	15. Chapter 15: Online Dating Au

**_Ch.15: Online Dating_**

"Come on, you haaave to!" Jellybean pleaded, tugging on his sleeve.  
"I'm perfectly fine being alone," Jughead sighed tempestuously, not meeting her stare. The younger Jones was practically bouncing in her seat.  
" _Jughead!_ Please, just give it a shot. Worst that can happen is you end up with a fifty-year-old, male divorcee. It worked for my friend. _Pleeeaase_ ," she persisted adamantly. Jughead sighed. Why couldn't his sister just accept the fact that he didn't date. After trying it once or twice, and realising that it was a few hours awkwardly spent, he gave up on the idea of falling in love, opting to write about it instead. Perhaps, when your twenty-year-old sister has a better romantic life, one needs to start re-evaluating choices.  
"Fine," he relented, sliding the laptop across the table.

Betty scrolled through her phone. There were photos of all her friends out at the weekend. When mutual friends insist that they won't choose sides in the event of a break up, it's empty promises discussed in a very hypothetical sense. If they weren't picking sides, why were they spending the early hours of the morning with Archie, and not watching chick-flicks with a tub of ice cream on the couch with Betty? Seems like the war zones had been clearly established from the moment they had announced their break up.  
"Okay, stop the dramatics girl," Kevin announced, striding into her bedroom, drawing back the curtains. Betty flailed desperately, clutching onto a pillow trying to shield her eyes from the light. Kevin caught her by the ankles and dragged her out of the bed, then proceeded to choose an outfit and give her space to re-acquaintance herself with proper hygiene protocols.

Betty arrived down to the kitchen to find him sitting at the kitchen table, typing furiously on the iPad. Moving to boil the kettle, she raised an eyebrow questioningly.  
"Just helping you to get back out into the dating world," he shrugged as though it were obvious.  
"Kev, no!" Betty protested, immediately abandoning her task, and darting for the device.  
"Not a hope," he laughed, moving it from her grasp.  
"I already have your account set up. I was just checking your fanbase," he winked.

Betty was content with wallowing in her new found single life. She did not want to be 're-introduced to dating'. Wow, that made her sound old. At twenty-seven, one's love-life should be at its peak, or just taking off, not declining and content to lay dormant for the unforeseeable future. Archie had been her high school sweetheart. Betty had never needed to be good at the seductive, flirty acts one engaged in to gauge other's interests; he had always been there. It had been expected for them; prom king and queen, captain of the football team and cheerleader, next door neighbours, the golden boy and perfect girl. Why wouldn't they have dated? But it had ruined her for everyone else. Betty had an entirely misconceived perception of how one went about starting a relationship and Kevin's course of action was not the solution.

"So, what do I do now?" Jughead asked, furrowing his eyebrows, staring quizzically at the website.  
"Now we wait," Jellybean smirked dramatically, leaning back folding her arms across her chest. Jughead rolled his eyes and clicked out of the site, deciding that his writing was far more interesting than waiting for some girl- most likely a fraud- to show some interest in his account. If it was meant to be, fate would take its natural course and 'the one' would brush hands with him in a supermarket as they reached for the same item, or spill her coffee all over him during the early rush hour, or maybe she would be a neighbour who's dog continually escaped into his yard. The internet was not supportive of romance, it was a scheme to offer desperate people false hope.

"Kevin! Not that picture." Betty groaned.  
"You cannot use the one of you for graduation. Too girly. You need an image that says: I'm fierce and sexy!" he waved his hands for emphasis and she glared.  
"But I'm neither of those things," she stated.  
"Look!" He announced excitedly, ignoring her protests. "Here. Jones sent a message." He swivelled the tablet so that she could inspect the content.

J: Hey there, I liked your profile and was wondering if you wanted to go out for dinner sometime?

"Definitely. He's got that sultry, brooding, sexy look going for him," Kevin decided.  
"Why don't you date him? You're more interested anyway," Betty suggested, and again he paid no attention.  
"Upstairs and get ready, you've a date at seven."

Jughead sat nervously, drumming his fingers against the table, taking interest in the chipping paint on the far wall- not allowing himself to look at the door. If he appeared preoccupied, or as though he wasn't on a date, then perhaps she would overlook him and come to the decision that she'd been stood up. The urge to get up and leave was overwhelming, and as he stood to do so his entire conscious being was immobilised by the sight of a woman entering the restaurant. _God, I hope she's my date,_ was his first thought, and beyond that the general thought process shut down. Her short, blonde hair fell in waves, framing her delicate, porcelain face. Striking green eyes met his stormy grey ones.  
"Are you…Jones?" She asked, blushing at using his account name. Still dumbfounded he nodded, before finally finding the courtesy to offer his hand.  
"Jughead," he smiled.  
"Betty," she replied, sitting down across from him.

Jughead stumbled through the door, still not able to wipe the smile from his face. The date had been different from any other; they had loads in common and therefore conversation flowed easily, she listened and took an interest in anything he said. It was relaxed and Jughead already found himself wanting to spend more time with her, not being able to quench the sound of her laughter from his mind, or the way her eyes lit up.  
"Have fun? Or did he bring his wife along too?" Jellybean asked from the living room and he stumbled back, clutching his chest, and steadying himself with a hand against the wall.  
"You scared the crap out of me! What are you doing here?" He asked, catching his breath.  
"Just came to see if I'd set you up with a serial killer or anything. So…?" She urged. Jughead hated giving her credit for it.  
"She's amazing."

 **Not the best, and slightly rushed. Hope you liked it, anyway.** **Let me know x**


	16. Chapter 16: Inspiration

**_Ch.16- Inspiration_**

 **I got the idea for this one, because I literally can't think of any ideas, and I feel like Jughead would hit that stage at some stage after publishing his book.**

Betty arrived home to find her husband in a frenzy. Their living room floor was scattered with sheets crumpled everywhere, and the counter beside the sink was piled high with empty coffee mugs. Jughead had his flannel unbuttoned, and the sleeves rolled high, with his hair standing in every direction.  
"No luck?" She asked, hanging her hand bang over the stair case banister.  
"I'm a one-time wonder!" he complained. "Maybe it wasn't meant to be. One book and my creativities' dead!" He fell on the couch, legs draped over one arm chair and his head cushioned by the other, arms hanging down, fingers skimming the carpet.  
"You'll think of something," Betty smiled weakly, running her fingers through his hair, kneeling beside him. He closed his eyes, forgetting the stress of conjuring a plot. "It hasn't even been a year since the book's been published." She assured him.

His muscles ached, and he leaned into her touch needing to forget. Jughead had decided that after writing throughout high school, he'd deserved a break. It had only proved disastrous. Having returned to writing a month ago, every evening ended the same; Betty needing to comfort him because there had been no progress. Anything he had considered lasted no longer than twenty-four-hours, always being scrapped before it could be developed.  
"Perhaps I'll write about us," he whispered, sitting up and drawing her onto his lap. Betty only raised an eyebrow sceptically. "The princess and the pauper…" he tugged on her ear lobe with his teeth. "Romeo and Juliet," he kissed her nose. She swivelled around, straddling him, bracing her hands on his shoulders, leaning down so that her lips brushed his pulse point.  
"Where would you start?" She kissed his jaw. Jughead reached up, brushing a curl behind her ear, marvelling at the way she leaned into his touch.  
"Well, Mrs. Jones I'd start on the day I first met you." He smirked, pecking her lips. "The little, blonde girl; hair in two pigtails, pink pinafore and T-bar, patent shoes. She was holding hands with the red-haired boy," he scowled, "but invited me over," he added smiling at that, finally leaning up and closing his lips over hers.

A shrill cry broke the moment and Betty made to move from his lap. Instead he lifted her up, set her back on the couch and silently went upstairs without protest. Betty looked around at the crumpled sheets, when she came across one that caught her eye. It was roughly scribbled down, and the sheet was translucent in places from his tears.  
"Betty I-" he started as though he was going to apologise, Lily resting on his hip. She shook her head, silencing him, biting her fist to hold back the tears. Jughead was the sort of man that appeared emotionless to others, but moments like this made Betty realise that he was simply layered. Exposing each new layer; each more vulnerable and exposed, only served to intensify her feelings over the years. Jughead wasn't two-faced or deceiving- his brooding, indifferent persona was no act. But, it was however, the only layer- the most coarse, protective, and safe- that he revealed to others.

"I want to write it. I don't know if I can. There's no point dwelling on the past," he rambled, cradling the one year old to his chest.  
"This is the one. This is the next book," Betty continued, objecting his excuse. Yes, it was pointless in a sense, but it was also a memorial or tribute as such. The book would embody the life of the child they lost.

 **I really am losing all creativity and will to even post another chapter. I know this one is shorter than all the others, but I wanted to post since I didn't yesterday. Anyway, I want to write something completely different to all my other chapters, something that would challenge me. Doesn't have to be Jughead, but I'll include something to do with them if ye want me to write about other ships. Please leave suggestions and I will write as many as I'm given. I want to keep posting regularly but I'm running out of ideas.**

 **Thanks to everyone who's supporting the story x** **Also check out my tumblr:  
captainekswan, and the other is: jug-headxbettytrash**


	17. Chapter 17: Double Date

**_Ch.17- Double Date_**

Veronica Lodge needed an excuse- anything to subtly instigate a relationship. Ever since the first day she'd set eyes on Archie, she'd wanted him. Check. But suddenly she wanted more. Before she would've been content to have a casual, non-exclusive relationship, but the thought of Archie being her boyfriend was too irresistible to ignore. She cursed herself for passing up the opportunity, but when Archie had confessed that he'd wanted to talk about the night they'd kissed, Veronica had panicked. However, that made the next step the more difficult, because she was not one to confess to a mistake. No. She would have to create a scenario that seemed coincidental.

Keys clicked, filling the otherwise silent room. The newsroom, albeit on school property, was the only place Jughead truly felt at home. Of course, his laptop was transportable, and this year particularly his friends and girlfriend offered him security, but there was something uniquely different that distinguished the newsroom as his home. It was the one place where no one looked down on him. None of his friends needed to subtly protect him, as they so often-and generally, subconsciously- did. Within those four walls he could comfortably be himself; a writer. Jughead could disappear, and with no defined authority, they could do as they wished, with the odd exception.

"Not what I expected," Veronica mused, strolling into the room. Jughead was sprawled on the couch, legs propped up on the arm rest, laptop balancing precariously on his lap, while Betty was snuggly rooted to the desk chair on the far side of the room.  
"Shoo, I need one-on-one girl talk!" Veronica added. Jughead rolled his eyes, never really understanding 'girl problems', before adjusting his headphones, hitting play.

Betty hit save, turning her attention to the awaiting brunette, sitting across from her.  
"What's up? There's always a reason with you when you come in here," she laughed, already predicting what the issue was.  
"I need a favour and well, I don't know what you're going to think," Veronica began, suddenly realising the desperation of her request, and the circumstances. Betty had a boyfriend, but once upon a time she had been besotted by the ginger, and Veronica wasn't too sure if Betty and Jughead had been out on an official date themselves. "Can the four of us go to Pop's this Friday?"  
"Ronnie…don't we always?"  
"Not like that." Veronica sighed, avoiding the inevitable. "More like a double date?" She winced.  
"Archie asked you out! Wow," Betty glanced over to her own boyfriend. Would he be willing to double date? It was only Archie and Ronnie, nothing too out of the ordinary.  
"Not exactly," Veronica interrupted her train of thought, proceeding to explain the situation.

Jughead wasn't too sure how he'd been dragged into all of it, but nonetheless he was staring at the bedroom ceiling, trying to broach the topic. Where the ceiling slopped, there was a football poster hung, and in another corner Jughead could decipher a fading tomato stain. Smirking at the sight he remembered one of their many sleepovers when they were thirteen. Betty's window had been a dangerous asset back then. That was the year his crush for the blonde took full force, making him blind to the rest of the opposite sex, and having humiliating consequences for his friendship. Archie, never considering Betty to be a possible girlfriend, didn't shy away from changing freely in front of the window. Jughead however, had scrambled in the other direction, kicking the pizza box, and evidently staining Archie's bedroom ceiling. Now, a window was the least of his troubles. Earlier that evening, Veronica had disrupted their peaceful work flow. He had been blissfully unaware of the girl's conversation, and would've preferred it to remain that way. Instead, he had to plant their 'scheme' into Archie's mind.

"Has there been anyone else since Valerie?" Jughead asked, leaning up on his elbow.  
"Huh?" Archie asked dazed. "Sort of, but it won't work." He shrugged.  
"Veronica?" Jughead suggested, quietly, not wanting it to seem too suspicious. Archie was intelligent but fortunately didn't read into anything too much. His lack of interpretation proved advantageous.

"She seems interested but always pulls away," Archie rolled over facing him fully. "Does Betty ever do that?" he asked. _Woah! Where is this all coming from? Opening up and wanting relationship advice? Who would have thought; Archie Andrews needing advice from me?!_  
"Am… sometimes. Anyway, just ask her out Friday and see what happens? Another shot isn't going to hurt anyone."

Four of Riverdale's finest; nothing out of the ordinary. Looking in, the booth by the window appeared no different to any other Friday. Jughead's arm casually draped around Betty, as she leaned into his side, engaging freely in conversation with their friends. Archie, noticing the display of affection, reached for Veronica's hand. Glancing suggestively, beneath her thick eyelashes, Veronica willingly interlaced their fingers. Everything was going to plan. Who knew just having another couple present during a date would be so encouraging?

 _Who knew sharing a date would be such an obstacle?_ Jughead wasn't too keen on clichéd dates; arranging set times to eat out or go to the cinema. Not 'dating' didn't degrade his love for Betty, it simply meant that they could be a couple, content in their company, wherever they were without pre-planning. It was strange. He acted no different around their friends, always giving into the need to just touch Betty in some way; brushing his knuckles across her cheek, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, resting a hand on her thigh. Now was no different, but he suddenly felt self-conscious of every move he made and everything he said. Archie was mimicking his every move. It didn't make sense. His friend had been impressing girls for far longer than he had, and had vast more experience, but suddenly being in one relationship made Jughead an expert?

When closing hour rolled by, both couples parted. Archie, gratefully had to walk Veronica home- on the other side of town. Betty caught Jughead by the wrist, stopping him in his tracks.  
"Thank you," she whispered, resting a hand on his cheek. "I know you didn't like this evening, but they did." Still slightly bothered by how his evening had been spent, Jughead held her close to his side, reminding himself why he'd helped orchestrate their best friend's relationship; it made Betty happy, and that was always his main priority.

 **I need Veronica and Archie to be official! Anyway, I hope you liked it, please, please review. Also, still open to suggestions and prompts x**


	18. Chapter 18: Coffee Shop AU

**For the sake of posting, this one is going to be short, sorry. Also, I know it's like the bookstore AU, but my friend requested this and I thought it would be cute. Let me know if you have any ideas.**

 **Ch. 18- Coffee Shop Au**

An aroma of coffee beans, toasted cinnamon, and musky cologne enveloped Betty as she slipped through the glass door, immediately swallowed into the crowd; sandwiched between a man with a mop of dark hair covered by a grey beanie, and a mother, carrying a toddler on her hip. Betty had anticipated the early morning rush hour, hence detouring to the best coffee shop- not in the least bit convenient to where she worked, on the far side of the city.

Leaning into the flow of the crowd, allowing herself to be lulled forward with each passing customer, Betty cleared her messages, replying to urgent work related emails.  
"Next please."  
Betty glanced up from the screen; "one decaf latte, please." Kettles squealed, steam gushed behind the till and the bell chimed by the door.

Still consumed by her phone, that had been incessantly buzzing with notifications, she blindly slid change across the counter, moving on once she was cradling the piping hot cup. Taking a sip, as she navigated her way to the door, Betty paused. An inconsumable, tar taste was far from the sickly sweet one she'd anticipated. Heels clicked along the stone floor, as she pushed through the mass of people.  
"Excuse me, you mixed up my order." Betty announced, appearing in front of a barista, waving the coffee cup in front of him.  
"This isn't an Espresso," a male voice interjected over her shoulder. Betty, now pressed against the counter, tilted her head back to be met with the beanie boy. His sharp jaw cut her line of vision short, and he tilted his head sideways smirking down at her.  
"Decaf latte, love?" he glanced down at the coffee in his hand, almost critical of her choice.

Jughead strolled into the coffee shop a week later. He hadn't seen the blonde since that day, but couldn't forget the feeling of her pressed against him, glaring as she'd swiped the coffee, and swiftly left without a word. A surge of unfounded confident overtook him upon setting eyes on her, standing in front of the till.  
"Hey blondie-" he started, but short when a hand clutched his shoulder, drawing both down in a heap.

Betty turned at the sound of the familiar voice, that had been playing on repeat in her mind, to find his expression crumple, falling to his knees. A resounding crack knocked her into action. She couldn't determine whether the shattering bones had been the dark-haired man, or the old woman, lying in a heap behind him. The former answered her question as he manoeuvred himself to help the elderly woman, that had clung to him in the moment of panic.  
"991, yes?" Betty was crouched beside the pair, silently indicating for the man to check that she was breathing.

"Nice second date eh?" He teased, as they stood in the parking lot, watching the ambulance disappear.  
"Date? Clearly, we've had very different past experiences," she scoffed, returning to the store where she'd abandoned her order. Jughead contemplated something to persuade her to stay. Why couldn't he maintain a conversation longer than a couple of seconds? She was captivating, and her disinterest was the more enticing.

Betty lingered in her car, the following week, watching. She cursed herself, realising how stalker-like the situation had become. She knew nothing beyond what he looked like, what time he frequented the coffee shop and his order. Was that basis enough to develop feelings? Apparently. After spending a second week with thoughts of said man dominating every day, Betty had decided to 'casually' bump into him on that particular Friday, waiting for the perfect moment. But minutes, and then hours passed. Tapping the steering wheel, glancing at the clock, Betty was dangerously close to being late to work. She felt lonesome at the sudden feeling of rejection. He wasn't there to meet her in the first place, coffee was the only thing that garnered his presence, so perhaps he had simply decided to go elsewhere.

Beep. Beep. _God dammit, just one minute-please. Let me get coffee and then pester me for the rest of the day._ Jughead grew irritable, itching at his unmoving position in the queue. Being promoted certainly didn't encourage his routine coffee stops, and after missing out on their weekly encounters the week before, he'd taken the risk that morning regardless. When his phone vibrated in his jacket pocket again, any intentions slipped his mind, as he swiped the coffee, diving for the exit.

Searing hot liquid soaked through her blouse instantly, causing her to arch against the assault, dropping her brief case.  
"Shit. I'm so sorry, let me." The man rambled, squatting to retrieve the discarded item. Returning it to it's owner, his hand brushed hers and they froze.  
"Fancy running into you here," Betty smiled, forgetting the situation at hand.  
"I think it's a sign that I should take you out for dinner, to make up for this," he nodded at her coffee-stained shirt.  
"I think that can be arranged," she agreed shyly, still meeting his stare.

 **Wasn't lying when I said it would be short :/**

 **I find AUs the easiest to write when I can think of nothing else, but I'd prefer to write more on Riverdale itself, so please suggest** ** _anything_** **for me to write about.**

 **Thanks for all the support so far**

 **If anyone has a bughead tumblr leave your URL in the reviews** **?**


	19. Chapter 19: Behind Closed Doors

**_Ch.19: Behind Closed Doors_**

Footsteps resounded in the hallway causing the pair to hesitate. Betty was sitting cross- legged in a corner of the janitor's closet- where Jughead had once resided- while the latter was crouched beside her, playing with a strand of her hair. Jughead marvelled at the privilege to do so. Unlike the rest of the male population their age, the thought that he had a girlfriend didn't offer a sense of entitlement over her, and he wasn't ravenous at the thought that their newfound status automatically ensured that any sexual desires would be fulfilled. None of that triggered with him, the way one would expect. Instead, it was moments like these, that made him truly grateful. Jughead could freely reach out, comb his hands through her hair and delight in the way it glided through his fingers, or the way she would relax into his touch, and how her distinct sell- apples and coconut- intoxicated him.

"Veronica is looking for us," Betty announced, glancing up from her phone and he groaned, leaning his head back against the wall.  
"Just a few more minutes?" He pleaded. It wasn't that there was any bad blood between them, but Jughead preferred keeping their relationship concealed for as long as possible. He'd learned the hard way that when people interfere with something good, it never results in his favour. Veronica would, most definitely, become the third party in their relationship, determining their every decision, and Jughead hadn't even begun to contemplate how Archie would react. Nonetheless, he knew it was best to prolong the inevitable. Their light source was dimmed and the door rattled on the hinges as someone was knocked against their refuge. Jughead hoisted himself up reluctantly, offering a hand to Betty, before checking that the halls were relatively empty.

"Caulfield! Taking our Betty hostage?" Veronica accused once they returned to the canteen.  
"Scandalous really," he scoffed, swinging a leg over the bench alongside Archie, not meeting Betty's gaze.  
"I was working on an article," Betty excused herself, deciding to maintain their act.  
"Got held up by Reggie in the locker room," Jughead mumbled, and neither were questioned.

Betty's mind was elsewhere throughout the remainder of lunch. Jughead, as usual, sat in mostly silence, absorbing the conversation and actions around him. Veronica was rattling off an elaborate story about her weekend's events, while Archie, chin propped up on his hand, listened attentively. She couldn't figure him out. How could guys, who weren't even romantically engaged with girls, show an interest in them and not be ashamed to spend time alone with them? Yet, when Jughead disappeared with her for a duration, it was sinful to admit to it, least everyone discover that she was his girlfriend. Betty didn't want to expose their relationship to garner attention, she didn't expect a fan page, and didn't desire Cheryl to be after her, questioning every aspect. The only reason she detested the secrecy of it all was because it enforced her insecurities. Were they keeping it a secret because he didn't consider it to be long-term? Was he ashamed to be labelled her boyfriend? Betty needed clarity.

Jughead rushed out before the final bell, skidding to a halt when Archie blocked the exist.  
"Want to go to Pop's?" The red-head asked.  
"Uh- not today," Jughead dismissed, curve balling the follow up question, taking the steps two at a time. They had fallen into a routine pattern; it was fool proof really. He took the back route to the Cooper's home, where he would arrive before Betty, and let himself in with the key under the mat. Her mom was never home at that hour, and Betty would arrive home to find him sitting on her couch, leg propped on the opposing knee. Each evening he was greeted with a kiss on the cheek, before she dragged him upstairs.

Betty skulked into the hallway, dismissive of the expected guest.  
"You okay?" Jughead asked, moving to meet her in the doorway. She nodded, stepping around him and falling into the armchair, closing her eyes. Did he not understand, she just wanted to be alone? If he didn't want to be with her publicly, maybe she didn't want a relationship limited to behind closed doors. Betty could feel him watching her, and peaked an eye open to find him immobilised. Clearly, she had made this all too easy for him, never relaying her discontent with their arrangement. Betty knew that her current irritation didn't lessen her feelings, but it couldn't be ignored. Not too sure how to handle the situation, he retreated to his spot on the couch, waiting for an explanation. Generally, due to his introverted nature, he was an expert at reading people's emotions, and while he had already dissected her character, Betty's emotions were highly unpredictable and inscrutable.

"Oh! Jug-head?" Alice greeted, shocked to find her daughter alone with him. She'd been aware that Betty had been friendly with F.P's son, but the depth of their friendship wasn't known to her.  
"Mrs. Cooper," he nodded, politely. Betty hadn't spoken a word in the hour they'd been sitting there, but the unending silence had presented a few possibilities to Jughead. Either, she was irritable because of the Polly situation- though she never restrained from discussing that- perhaps it was the unexplainable nature of women's hormones, or her early, unresolved protests to the 'secret.' Taking a gamble on the latter, Jughead stood to excuse himself.  
"I'll see you tomorrow," he stated, leaning down to kiss her forehead. "Nice to see you again," he added in Alice's direction, leaving the Cooper's to discuss his actions.

Alice, for once, had nothing to say. Sitting alongside her daughter, she awaited an explanation.  
"He doesn't want people to know," Betty confessed, shocked that she was confiding in her mother- a rare occurrence.  
"Doesn't seem like that."

Glancing in the mirror, her shirt hung crookedly on her frame as the buttons were tied incorrectly in her jittery effort. Why was she nervous? It was just a normal day. Except, there was the possibility that it wouldn't be. Jughead had no qualms about displaying his affections in front of her mother, without warning or reason, so who's to say that their friends would be any different? For the past month, it's all she wanted; to go public with the relationship. But now that it was a real possibility every possibility of something going wrong, and all illogical scenarios clouded her excitement.

A sinking feeling settled over her when the first bell rang, and still no Jughead. Avoiding her didn't resolve the problem either. While she was dreading everyone's reactions, it would be worth it, and she couldn't understand why he didn't feel the same way. A hand slipped into hers, and Jughead bumped his shoulder against hers playfully.  
"Morning," he greeted. Neither having the time to question his actions, or wanting to protest, Betty simply fell into step beside him on their way to class, eyes following their unpredicted intimacy.

"You and Betty…?" Archie whispered during English.

"Uh yeah," Jughead replied, finally having to face what he'd been dreading for the past month.  
"Cool," Archie stated simply, dropping the subject. Jughead was relieved that there had been no protests, but was surprised by his disappointment that Archie had nothing more to say. Jughead found the situation to be infallible! Surely, their friends would think the same, and at least be slightly more opinionated. But instead of giving into his fears, Archie had already proved him wrong.

"What's this I hear?" Veronica cooed, sliding into the seat in front of Betty. Without further explaining herself, Betty understood.  
"Jughead's just been really supportive and he makes me happy," she couldn't help the smile that creeped across her expression, distancing herself to those bliss moments from the past month.  
"I approve," Veronica smirked, nodding promptly, turning to face the board. Betty couldn't wipe the smile from her face. Having others know offered an extra layer of security, affirming his feelings, and solidifying their relationship.

 **I know that everyone essentially found out about their relationship almost immediately after they first kissed, but I decided to put a slightly different take on it. Let me know what you thought of it x**


	20. Chapter 20: The Shell of a Man

**_Ch. 19: The Shell of a Man_**

 ** _Right, so this is a bit different to my usual ones, but I really liked writing it. If you like it let me know and I'll do more like it._**

 _"_ _Jughead! Look at me." F.P demanded, clutching the grimy bars. Hesitantly, his son turned, glaring. "Never come back here. You hear me? I never want to see you back here." He gritted through his teeth, holding back tears, watching- for what could be the last time- at his son's ever quizzical expression. Jughead contemplated for a moment, repulsed, or perhaps betrayed? F.P couldn't determine, but finally the boy walked out of his life forever. The low he felt when Gladys and Jellybean left paled in comparison to this; he had purposely quenched the last light in his life. F. P's shoulders heaved, and he desperately clung to the cell bars, bowing his head against the cold metal._

The final conversation echoed around the room, ricocheting off the white-washed walls, reverberating throughout his being. If he was to spend the rest of his limited life as a convict, he should be clinging to the happy memories; not those tormented last few moments. The closest thing to utter blissful happiness he'd experienced recently was the cause of none other than Betty Cooper…

 _F. P busied himself, glancing at the clock. Jughead was due to be home any moment. His heart swelled at the realisation. When was the last time he'd awaited his son's presence? Their encounters were generally limited, the cause always undesirable. But now, Jughead was willingly back at home, with no excuse other than helping F. P to rebuild their family. As expected, the door burst open, swinging on the hinges; handle denting the frail living room wall._

 __ _"_ _DAD!" Jughead called eagerly, dumping his duffle bag on the couch, springing around the trailer in search of his father. F. P grinned at the child-like excitement. Never, in all his years had he seen this side of Jughead. Even as a child, the boy had never expressed immense emotion. In truth, the only time he did so was when venting his anger or discontent. But excitement? That was a foreign concept to the Jones boy. Appearing in the doorway, Jughead beamed at the sight of his dad sitting at the quant table, manuscript in hand. Ignoring the pride that overtook him, Jughead focused on his news._ _  
"_ _Alice Cooper invited us over for dinner the night of Homecoming," he explained in one breath, shoulders sagging after having released the information that had provoked such excitement.  
"This Betty girl is special eh?" F. P smirked. Jughead pulled out the chair opposite, eyes closed and incapable of preventing the contagious smile that played on his lips.  
"I love her," he explained simply. _

Jughead had Betty, he would move on and forget about him. It was best. Knowing that Betty was what his son deserved, F. P should've been happy; should be comforted. But he wasn't. Forsythe was building a life for himself, and F. P would be excluded from the new and improved version. He would never get to witness his son blossom into the author he was destined to be. In years to come, there would be a vacant seat in the front pew of the church, as Jughead would stand nervously at the top of the aisle. What would he tell his children about their grandfather? One false conviction was ultimately erasing him from the picture. But at least Jughead was alive and safe. F. P was hollowed out; a washed-up shell of a man, discarded on the sea shore, while his family was far out at sea. He had had no other option. The ultimatum left him obliged to relent to Clifford Blossom's threat, for there was no doubt that he was currently faring better than the alternative.

 _Betty Cooper's green, misty eyes bore through his sole. The blonde didn't tear her gaze from him as the coffin was lowered at a torturously slow rate. He couldn't wipe the memory of her clinging to the body as Sheriff Keller arrived on the scene. Now, she needed the comfort of blaming someone, rather than coming to terms with his passing. Her accusations weren't fallacious. Aside from Jughead's murderer, had it not been for F. P's selfish decision, he would still be alive. Roots spurted from the ground, emerging like rattle snakes, curving around his ankles in a vice, running up his legs, cutting off his circulation, ripping through flesh and bone, merging him as nothing more than an elemental part of the world. F. P did nothing to prevent it, holding Betty Cooper's resentful stare as the earth consumed him; moist, grainy soil enveloping him, caking his skin, seeping into his bloodstream. There was no point resisting, instead offering himself to the feeling of nothingness. He deserved to disappear; he had essentially ordered Clifford Blossom to pull the trigger._

Jughead deserved so much more. His whole life had been supressed; an inexcusably absent father, a fleeing mother and a sister destined to be collateral damage. Somehow, he had emerged from the nightmare, growing to be an intelligent boy with immense potential, supportive friends, and a future. There was no question about trying to justify his decision; F.P knew that he couldn't live with himself if he had cut his son's life short. F.P may be rocking back and forth on the cold tiles, consumed by these memories and scenarios, but Jughead was likely sitting in the infamous booth, in the company of Fred's son and Betty. The disgust and disappointment Jughead had unveiled upon his last visit affirmed F. P's suspicions that he would be better off without him. At this rate, he wasn't sure if he wanted anyone to uncover Clifford's secret.

Unbeknownst to the South-side Serpent, Jughead stood in the office of the Sheriff's station, arguing with Kevin's dad.  
"He didn't kill Jason! He's innocent!"  
"That man has committed nearly enough crimes to amount to murder, he's not getting out of here any time soon." He bit back, trying to intimidate the unrelenting teenager.  
"Half of the South side should be rounded up in that case. What are you going to do? Overlook that Clifford is a murderer just because of his status, and keep my father in here because he's 'scum'?" Jughead clutched his fists by his side, holding the older man's firm glare.  
"Not tonight." Keller replied with a tone of finality, leaving nothing left to argue or contest. Jughead lingered a few moments longer, in the hope that he would change his mind but to no avail.

Betty waited patiently outside, clutching the thin material of her jacket closer around her, preserving body heat as the temperatures dropped with the rising moon. The door swung shut behind her, and Jughead emerged, posture slouched. He willingly crumpled into her awaiting embrace; explaining nothing, just needing the support. Hooking an arm beneath his shoulder, curving around his torso she led him to Pop's where Veronica and Archie awaited them. While they may have succeeded in proving Jughead's dad's innocence, there was a long way to go to regain the progress that had been lost.

 **Okaaaaay. The last episode was intense! My poor baby was crying. Broke my heart. But looooved it overall! Anyway, here is what I came up with based off it. If there's anything you want me to develop on from the episode, still send a request and I can always do another one based off it.**


	21. Chapter 21: Layers

**_Ch.20: Layers_**

 **I love my Jones men, so continuing the trend of the last chapter, here's one about Jughead.**

 _I, Jughead Jones, had shielded myself from everyone; slowly building a defensive system and my fort was secluded from everyone else. Other children made castles and kingdoms from nothing more than blankets, pillows, and the living room furniture. But what did they have to escape from? Their childish act of disappearing into the playful world of domestic objects was nothing more than role play, broadening their imagination. I, however, spent my childhood in the playground- rain or snow. Often during the school year, abandoned of the playful laughter that resonated during the summer days, I would hoist my legs up to my chest and listen to the beating rain against the metal of the slide above me. I observed- even as a boy of eight years- how birds' nests that balanced precariously on the edge of a branch never lasted more than a day; always ripped from their safety by the harsh winds. However, the more intelligent birds, built their nests amongst the bushes, despite being less scenic and comfortable it offered security. I promised, curled beneath the slide, shivering with the cold, that I would start building my nest among the thorns so that anyone who tried would never get close enough._

Betty sat back, unsure of what to say. They had already said so much that night, anything more could be the tipping point.  
"You were doing a nice thing," Jughead sighed, folding his arms on the table and leaning forward to rest his chin on the cushioned surface. "I'm a lover and a fighter," he admitted solemnly.

Jughead felt repulsed at how he had acted, hence barely able to look her in the eye. For the first time, he truly felt the inner torment surface, immediately directed onto the most underserving and easiest source. That night, he had resembled his father. After walking out of the garage, the words he'd spat at her replaying in his head, he couldn't shake the nauseating sensation of déjà vu; of the long nights, sitting beside his bedroom door, listening to his parents argue relentlessly. Their conversation was frighteningly like those in the Jones' house, and it made him sick. Jughead wanted to return to the moment in the garage, set aside his own issues with celebrating another year of one's life, and simply thank her for the effort. He should've taken her in his arms, rested his chin atop her head, and been glad that for the first time someone had gone against his wishes, and genuinely wanted to celebrate his birthday. Instead, he pushed her away. The moment she's rounded the corner, cake in hand, he had known that any misconceptions he'd harboured of her feelings were completely irrelevant. Betty Cooper was not entering the relationship with a simple desire to escape the mess that her family life was spiralling into. Instead, she truly cared for him and the fear had set in. She couldn't tear down the thorns, she would simply destroy herself in the process.

His friends had left him in the diner after explaining his father's 'innocence', when he finally decided he could return to Archie's house without confronting him at this late hour. He was so conflicted. Jughead wanted nothing more than to believe his father, but where had that gotten him before? It was a plausible accusation, including his confession. Why would he confess if he wasn't guilty? Why was there any reason for Jughead to think otherwise? Furthermore, he rolled over, kicking the quilt that tangled around his ankles. The cold air crashed against him, doing nothing to quench the rising frustration, offering no clarity to the situation. His skin itched, and he tugged on his hair, thrashing around on the mattress. Nothing helped. Sleep was beyond possible. Betty always knew how to help, but that was essentially handing over the sword to rip down his walls of thorn. By sheer habit, reverting to natural instincts, Jughead had been shoving her away since the night of his father's arrest. Deep down he knew that Betty was not involved in the scheming, but it presented an acceptable excuse to distance himself. Right now, he was at his most vulnerable, and there would be no repairing the gaping holes in his walls, caused by his girlfriend, that had once been indestructible.

He went against better judgement, however, as he found himself hoisting her window open, swinging a leg over the ledge. The smell of apples and coconut, her preferred shampoo that was now distinctly her, immediately calmed him.  
"Juggie?" she whispered into the darkness, hoisting herself up on an elbow, squinting at the dark silhouette that hesitated.  
"I need you." He croaked, voice breaking. No innuendos or improper intentions, just the blatant fact that she was the only respite left. Wordlessly Betty drew back the quilt covers, scooting over. Jughead kicked off his shoes, and slid in, encasing her in his arms, holding her tight and burying his face among her mass of blond hair and the pillow. Betty rested her arm atop his, lacing their fingers together, hands snuggled against her ribcage, and drifted back to sleep.

Jughead had unwittingly bared his soul to her. Betty had pealed each layer away, never flinching at each exposed surface, each rawer and defenceless. He realised, however, that each time the process had been hesitant and prolonged. Each time he'd unveiled a layer he had carefully contemplated his basic principles and the consequences first.

"He's innocent!" Jughead flung his hands in the air, exasperated by Keller's lack of understanding. Years of doubt and bewilderment at his dad's evident inconsideration for his wellbeing had vanished. F.P had conveyed the most selfless, unconditional act of love ever offered to his son. Jughead wanted his dad home. Now that he had the reassurance that his dad cared, he would no longer push him away. The vulnerability within him quacked, giving way to the sensitive teenage boy within. While his rough, indifferent exterior suggested otherwise, Jughead only ever wanted to feel loved; wanted a steady family life. Now he had the chance for that, and the law was standing in the way.

He didn't want to return to Archie's house, because the relaxed, loving interactions between father and son would hit home too strongly. He couldn't return to the trailer because it still resembled a crime scene, and the solitude would only serve as a reminder. Instead, he wandered aimlessly, lost in thought, in the image of the perfect life. In that life, he would walk home, Jellybean skipping alongside him. His mother would ruffle his hair, and despite secretly cherishing it he would groan in protest. His father, having a steady job, would stride in as dinner was laid out. Each family member would relay their day's events, and sometimes Betty Cooper would be in their company. On those evenings, Jellybean would pester her, asking to paint nails, and hang out together. While Jughead knew, the small irritations would never be rectified, he could live with it. The perfect life taunted him, almost creating a sense of guilt, as though somehow, he was the reason that it wasn't a reality.

Betty closed her text book, reaching for her buzzing phone.  
"Can you come and get me?" Jughead chocked out. Betty found him down by Sweetwater River's edge, forehead resting against his knees, his shoulders hunched forward. Her hands snaked over his shoulders, as she rounded him, crouching down to eyelevel, cupping his cheeks.  
"Hey, it's ok." She whispered, kissing his forehead.  
"He's gone." Jughead sobbed, not caring that Betty had finally managed to break him. She didn't run repulsed or horrified, instead she shook her head in disagreement, brushing a thumb across his cheek. The thorns were finally shredded, and in their place blossomed an everlasting rose, planted by his seed of hope; Betty.

 **I love how broody and stand-offish Jughead can be, but equally I adore his sensitive side and just had to write about it.**

 **Also, I have another chapter to post this evening, and while there will be mention to Bughead, it will be mainly Veronica and Archie (a request by izzy—bella004 on tumblr)**


	22. Chapter 22: Not our Parents

**_Ch. 23: Not Our Parents_**

 **First off, I am so so so so sorry for not updating sooner. I know I've been finished my exams nearly a month now, but I've been working and just haven't been able to fit in the time to write. I'm going to try to update weekly, again, or at least every second week. I've a few ideas now, but please send in suggestions if you have them. Thank you for the continued support, and I hope no one has given up hope for the rest of the story because of my absence. Anyway, I hope you like this chapter, let me know what you think.**

It hurt. Seeing her, physically hurt. Betty had looked right through him, chin held high, arms interlinked with Veronica. Until then, he'd held out on the hope that somehow, she would've changed her mind. The way she looked at him…empty, inconsiderate, obsolete. It confirmed his fears. Betty Cooper had finally come to her senses. That night had been her escape route and she'd gladly seized the opportunity to cut all ties, now doing nothing to damper her superiority. Not even attempting to salvage a friendship. Jughead had hoped for something more than the bitter dismal, albeit knowing that his love for her would only serve to complicate any sort of an alternative relationship. Perhaps it was for the best.

The cold metal slipped through his fingers, shattering on the tiles beneath him, as the liquor seared his throat, warming his stomach. Jughead, slouched on the kitchen chair, head tilted back, staring, empty, at the ceiling, listening to the buzzing of the electric circuit and the howling of the wind that whistled through the shutters above the sink. Jughead couldn't exactly remember how he'd arrived there. He'd made it through only two classes after their encounter, finally relenting to his faltering composure, and rushed through the school doors, running. His feet had pounded against the asphalt, the unaccustomed sensation vibrating through his protesting muscles, and he choked on silent sobs, drowned by the wind, gasping down cold air, burning his lungs. Anything to forget. Some subconscious decision had led him to the cabinet, above the fridge. For a moment, he'd stared at the stash of murky brown bottles, translucent under the humming light bulb. It taunted and lured him, and he'd reached out before his forearm seized up, fingers contracting into a claw.

Now, he reached for the fourth bottle, the effect only offering a buzz, not the numbness he sought. It was stupid. Utterly stupid. How had he allowed himself to envision a future? Why get his hopes up when he only knew it would end in heartache? Jughead had recovered after his mom and Jellybean left, had managed to cope with his father's arrest but this…While everything else had moulded him into the person he is today, and for the better, it had always taken a part of him, eroding some aspect of his being. Betty's decision would be the thing to break him, there was no salvation now. Jughead winced, hissing as he knocked back the end of the bottle; always more strong, bitter, and, vile than the rest. It was disturbing how quickly one could alter their views. Jughead had promised himself, from the age of seven, that he would never touch alcohol, having experienced first-hand the damaging effects. He had once been thankful for that, that somehow his father's mistakes had influenced him positively, ironically raising a child with morals and a desire to do better. How wrong he had been. The fifth bottle found itself between his lips, snuggled between his clammy hands, as though it was natural; practiced.

* * *

The door clicked, hinges creaking and Betty's head snapped in the direction, heart skipping a beat, throat closing. The grey beanie moved, as inconspicuously as possible, skulking towards the far side of the room. She glanced towards him, hopefully, silently praying he'd glance in her direction; something to indicate he still cared. Why would he care after the way she'd treated him?

 _"_ _Jug…I think we should break up," Betty whispered, wringing her hands, eyes pleading.  
"What."  
"I just- I can't do this anymore," she choked out, wanting to run, or tell him the truth. But she couldn't. No yet, anyway. Betty wasn't too sure what the results were, the doctor had said it would be a week, at least, before the results were back. Should it be positive, Betty wasn't too sure whether she wanted to keep it, or opt for adoption, but involving Jughead would only complicate things, and complicate any decision. She knew it was selfish, and perhaps she would regret it for the rest of her life, but right now it was all she could do. And, if she was fortunate enough, and the test was negative, then ending the relationship was still in her best interest, for it highlighted that the possibility would always be there.  
"Betty I love you." She bit the inside of her cheek, to stop the tears, turning on her heels, walking away from him; the one thing she'd promised herself not to do. _

She wasn't. It had been negative. But it was too complicated to explain the change of heart. Jughead would move on. He may not realise, but he deserved everything, and someday, he would be noticed.

Finally, glancing back, Jughead noticed she was staring. At the sight of him, her eyes went wide, mouth agape, and he directed his attention back to staring blankly at the wall, cursing himself for turning around. Betty's mind was racing, and once the bell rang, she chased him down the hall, nails digging into his wrist.  
"Juggie. Are you drunk?" She whispered, hissing.  
"Hungover, love." He rolled his eyes, voice dripping with sarcasm and shrugged out of her touch. His strides were sluggish and as he veered the corner, his hand slammed against the wall, balancing himself. Betty chased after him, grabbing him roughly by the cuff of his neck.  
"Why?" She asked, in an accusing tone.  
"Don't act like you care."  
"I do." Betty sighed exasperated.

Her emotions and decisions had become as conflicted and corrupt as her mother's. Betty was disgusted with herself for the way she had handled things, but for both Cooper girls to fall pregnant while in high school would reflect badly on the family name. When had Betty ever given a damn about their reputation? Not until it had made life easier in general. Betty had deluded herself into thinking that hiding the situation from everyone, including Jughead, would be better. For the first time in months, her dad was home, Polly's pregnancy was accepted and the birth of the twins greatly anticipated, while the limelight had somehow drifted from Betty; granting her space, without being under her mother's constant scrutiny. A pregnancy, at the hands of a South-Side Serpent, from the daughter that had the potential to go so much further. There would be no redeeming any sort of a relationship.

But at what cause? Betty had regretfully forfeited the love of her life, for the sake of holding together her family. Both, she realised as she stared intently into Jughead's eyes, were slowly and willingly becoming their parents. The one thing they had promised wouldn't happen. In ten years, would Jughead be a raging alcoholic; passed out in the trailer, drinking himself to death? Would Betty forever be appeasing her mother; settling down with a respectable man, and raising children with the same morals as Alice Cooper? The brief image in itself spurred her to take action, and change the inevitable course.

"Juggie, it was a mistake. I was confused and I took the easy way out, I'm sorry." She confessed in one breathe. For a moment, she was sure that he would embrace her, apologise for his drunken behaviour and everything would return to normal.  
"How do I know? Betty my feelings cannot adapt to whether you are emotionally stable to continue the relationship. I need a definite answer. I need to know that the next time, it won't be without cause or justification. I deserve a god damn reason! I don't want to tie you down forever, but I don't want to be waiting on the side lines for when you need me! I'm not your boy toy."

Betty backed down immediately, taking a step away from him, as he seethed; breathing heavily, fists clenched at his side. She nodded mutely, considering walking away but that would determine her decision; all in or all out. She didn't like ultimatums, but the alternative wouldn't be fair to either. Instead she took his hands in hers, gently, instantly easing his restless state and she closed the distance, brushing her lips against his. Betty had intended to move away, before attracting a crowd, as they were known for not being particularly fond of PDA, but Jughead seemed to have other ideas. His arms moved around her, locking her against his chest, one hand moving in between her shoulder blades, the other resting on her lower back. She gripped his shoulders for support, as her knees threatened to give out and his tongue re-accustomed itself with every crevice of her mouth. That piece of himself- the one-part essential to hold himself together- was full again. F.P might not have been lucky enough to find someone that would stand by him no matter what, and keep him on the right track, and Alice may not have been fortunate enough to find someone who would counteract her volatile behaviour, but the same couldn't be said for their children.


	23. Chapter 23: Independent

**Ch.24: Independent**

 **As promised I'm going to be trying to update more often. Not too sure how I feel about this chapter, to be honest. The last two chapters are different from the others, and I'm not sure if that's for better or worse. Please let me know what style of writing you prefer, and suggest any other prompts.**

Dependency. The word disgusted him, and made him want to revolt instantly. It is said that humans are the slowest- despite most advanced- developing mammalian in the world. They're nurtured throughout the first eighteen years of their lives, revelling in the mollycoddling of their parents. Human nature has inevitably created the inscrutable dependency, that- even after the first eighteen years- never truly wears off. We're in constant need of reassurance, company, motivation. Very rarely did one venture off into the world alone.

Except Jughead Jones.

From a young age, he'd had to fend for himself; cooking dinners- albeit pathetic excuses for a meal- for himself and Jellybean, collecting the beer bottles that would be littered around the living room, reading Jellybean bedtime stories, walking her to school, sitting down and helping her with her homework. Jughead, without question, had resumed the parental role in their household, due to the incompetence of their own parents. A childhood had never been granted to him, but while that had provoked bitter resentment in him once, now he was thankful for his second-nature independence.

He sat on the bottom step in the foyer of the Andrews' home, listening to the social worker discussing the financial issue of his situation. No family would be likely to take him in, if his own parents couldn't provide the necessary costs for his temporary care. Although Mr. Andrews offered to help in that aspect, Jughead's stomach lurched at the thought of being in debt to the man; of depending on him for money. Jughead wouldn't even consider it.

Of course, when taking matters into his own hands, the world seemed to be against him based on their conceited prejudiced. The local supermarket claimed that they were in no need of extra staff, although their "HELP WANTED" sign, plastered on the front window, suggested otherwise. The town library outright refused him the position, and so the trend had continued. The instant his name escaped his lips, the employers grew nervous; avoiding eye contact, fumbling with their hands, desperately searching for an excuse other than _"_ _we can't hire F.P Jones' boy, who would surely attract trouble."_

After each rejection, he'd yank his duffle bag from the ground, shrug it over his shoulder and storm out, letting the door slam in his wake. Of course, that did nothing to prove their worries misguided. But why try when your efforts would only be spat back at you? The new mechanic, however, didn't contemplate him too much before willingly offering him a position. Jughead couldn't be sure whether it was because news of _who_ Jughead was hadn't yet reached the man, or whether such a status was invalid to him. Either way, he started the following morning.

"Want to come over for dinner?" Betty asked, wrapping an arm around his torso as they walked the school halls, now more comfortable and open about their relationship.  
"Can't, sorry." Jughead replied bluntly, and almost distastefully.  
"Oh," Betty sighed quietly, retreating into herself. She had been so sure of his acceptance that she hadn't anticipated the rejection. She silently cursed herself for becoming so dependant and reliable on his company. But what had demanded his entire evening, that he couldn't even offer an explanation? Jughead seemed to be having the same debate in his mind; whether to admit to having a new job, which would no doubt warrant pity from his girlfriend, or to lie about his whereabouts, and let her over active imagination conjure a scene of Jughead spending the evening with another girl. He reluctantly opted for the former; it was a lose-lose situation either way.

"I've work today," he confessed, biting his tongue in anticipation of her response.  
"Oh Juggie! That's great news. Where are you working?" Betty asked, eagerly, almost bouncing as she walked alongside him.  
"In the new garage," he smiled, relieved that she hadn't berated him for not seeking an easier source of financial help.

Betty shut her text book, unable to study any more. It had been a week since Jughead had started working, and she rarely saw him outside of school hours. She hated to admit that she wanted to spend more time with him, but if she confessed to such a petty desire, then Jughead would only counteract her requests. Instead she decided to take matters into her own hands, grabbing her jacket from the bed post.

Pacing outside the building, where metal clinked, machines hissed and the air reeked of oil and exhaust fumes, Betty debated leaving unnoticed. She'd never done this before and what if Jughead didn't like the intrusion? What if it made him look lax in front of his boss, who would perhaps dislike the intrusion of girlfriends into the workplace? But then again, it was the only chance she could take to see him outside of school, and the latter argument won out, as she slipped inside.

A rusty car, half suspended in the air by leverages, met her. She craned her neck in search of him, expecting- stupidly- to find the beanie. Instead, the only sign of human life were the two feet peeking out from beneath the car.  
"Juggie?" she called timidly. The feet twitched as a banging sound emitted from the floor, and the trolley rolled out, revealing Jughead, rubbing his temple.  
"Bets? What are you doing here?" he asked, standing up. She couldn't summon an answer as she took in his appearance; he wore oil smudged, dark grey overalls, with a squiggly name tag sewn into the corner, the pants were tucked into heavy, brown working boots, and his slick hair was ruffled. Betty had to admit that while his everyday flannel look was already attractive, this uniform surpassed all others. She refrained from commenting on it, not wanting to embarrass him, or give the impression that she was being sarcastic, but her hesitation and obvious appreciation was inclination enough.

"Betty?" he prompted, smirking, and running a hand through his hair, as he leaned on the bonnet of the car.  
"Sorry…I am, well I guess I just wanted to see you," she admitted, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.  
"You saw me at school," he pointed out, though his smirk suggested he already knew the deeper intention. Betty huffed, unaccustomed with his playful manner; when she was just becoming adept to his serious, monotonous character.  
"I missed spending time with you," she relented, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet while shoving her hands deep in her pockets. His gaze softened, and he approached her in two swift steps, before taking her face between his hands and lowering his head to brush his lips across hers.  
"I missed you too," he admitted, resting his forehead against hers.

"Can I stay?" she asked warily, still tauntingly close to him. Jughead nodded, taking a step back.  
"No distractions," he added curtly, before manoeuvring himself down on the ground.


	24. Chapter 24: The Proposal

**Ch. 25: The Proposal**

 **Okay, so I've been considering writing this one for ages- practically since I started off, but I wanted to wait, cause every time I went to write it (even though it's set in the future) I felt like it was too soon. I hope I did it justice, please review x**

Jughead had never felt so sick in his entire life. His stomach churned and twisted as he thought of the night ahead. He buttoned the shirt hastily to find the buttons jagged and the shirt sitting crooked on his frame, while he was sweating so profusely that the armpits of the material were already destroyed. Yanking it off, he rummaged through the wardrobe for another. If someone had told Jughead five years ago, that he'd be in possession of such clothing he would have institutionalised them. Now, thanks to his girlfriend of seven years, he owned several.

Finally, adorning a crisp white shirt, along with a grey, matte-coloured suit, Jughead double checked for the small box, loosening a sigh as he felt it in the inner lining pocket of the jacket. He shouldn't be nervous, he should be sure of his decision. But that wasn't the problem. The problem was that he was scared; scared of her answer; scared of what would come next; scared of messing up. Surprisingly, he had already conquered the worst part of his quest: asking for the Coopers' permission. Yes, Riverdale was as backwards as you could get- or perhaps that was just Jughead. Either way, he had deduced that it both comforted him in making the right decision, and procrastinated the inevitable.

 _His leg hopped up and down off the ground, and he folded his hands over his knees to calm his nerves.  
"Alright there, son?" Hal chuckled, as he entered through the front door, dropping his brief case in the doorway and sitting across from him. Jughead's throat had closed over, and he wanted to run until he was far from the eager stare of his girlfriend's dad. It wasn't often when she left him alone with her parents, and he was damn glad for it. They weren't the most comfortable or welcoming people to be around. Maybe they could just stay together forever, without getting married. Better yet, they could elope. Every option had started to sound better, as he sat squirming on the couch. _

___"_ _What was it you wanted to talk about?" Alice asked, neither accusingly or sweet, just matter-of-fact. Hal and Alice Cooper sat a comfortable distance away from each other; united in their quest to make him quiver, but not a unit- not like two people who should be completely besotted by each other. He hoped that him and Betty wouldn't end up like that. He wanted what they had now, to last forever.  
"I was wondering…well…you see…" he coughed, clearing his throat, desperately chocking for the words. Neither stepped in to help, but seemed to enjoy his distress. "I want your permission to marry Betty." He blurted out. They didn't answer. Oh god, they were going to say no. They'd make her break up with him. They'd never intended for the relationship to go this far. He would bring shame to their family, and now he had given them the option to completely turn him away.  
"Of course, Jughead. We were waiting for the day Betty would finally come home and announce an engagement!" Alice broke the silence, chuckling. He couldn't respond. That wasn't what he'd been expecting. Surely, this was some joke, and someone would jump out with a camera. He waited, but nothing of the sort happened. Instead, they sent him off, congratulating him on the decision. His confusion remained, and on the short, ten-minute walk, to the house he shared with Betty, he couldn't wrap his head around their blessing; though nonetheless grateful. _

Now, he was afraid that it would be a similar scenario. Like mother, like daughter. Would Betty make him sweat? Would she be one of those girls who took the ring, claiming she'd "think it over, because it was the biggest decision of her life." Or worse yet, would she reject him straight away? There was no way of knowing, but having contemplated this for so long, he'd decided that the risk was worth it.

"Oh Juggie! I'm so sorry I'm running late, I got caught up in traffic on the way home from work, and then I had to change, and then there was even more traffic on the way here, and…" he cut her off by kissing her chastely, one hand wrapped around her waist. It had been partially to shut her up, and partially to calm his nerves.  
"It's ok Betty, you're here now, and not being ten minutes early doesn't quantify as late." He rolled his eyes, loving her punctuality.

As they stood, waiting for someone to bring them to their table, he couldn't help but admire her. She wore a blush pink dress, that passed her knees, and billowed out slightly; resembling a seventies' style dress. She also wore a necklace that he'd given her for her twenty-first birthday, and her hair cascaded down her back.

The meal passed quickly, yet he couldn't concentrate on the conversation. The entire time, he glanced around; as though looking for the opportune time to pop the question. But it didn't seem right. Why did he take Archie's advice and reserve a table in a fancy restaurant? It just wasn't them! Betty, nor himself, didn't like attracting big crowds, and as he sat, staring at everyone, he realised that he didn't want these strangers invading and observing _their_ moment. It had to be perfect. She deserved nothing less. He was a writer- surely before the end of the night (because it _had_ to be that night) he'd think of somewhere to go.

"Is something wrong?" Betty asked, tentatively, linking her arm through his. Unable to summon words, he simply shook his head, and offered a reassuring smile. She began walking off in the other direction, towards the carpark, when he tugged in the opposite direction.  
"Where are you going?" She laughed, for it was the middle of the night, and there was nowhere open at this hour. Jughead didn't offer an answer, instead leading her through town. He had two locations in mind; neither precisely ideal as it could land him a night in prison, but both significant to their relationship.

The diner came into view and Betty opened her mouth to protest, but he silenced her before she could. He took a pin from his jacket, slipping it into the lock, crouching down and manoeuvring it around.  
"Juggie! We're going to get caught! If you want food we can have a snack when we get home." Betty hissed, placing a hand on his shoulder, as she glanced around; fearful that Sheriff Keller would emerge from the bushes at any moment.  
"Don't worry about it, love." Jughead dismissed, smirking. For once in his life, he was thankful for a skill he'd learnt from his father; picking locks.

The diner lay in darkness; no clatter of pans, no swing music, no jovial laughter- just the two of them. Jughead smirked as he took in the scene. Perfect. He glanced to _their_ booth, guiding her over, and sitting her sideways on the seat. For a moment, he said nothing, just taking it all in. He wanted to remember everything; how the place smelled- like Betty's perfume mingled with the residue of burgers- what time it was- exactly half eleven, going by the clock above the cooker- and the way her eyes glinted, expectantly. The restaurant was a nice idea, and maybe someday Archie would take Veronica there, but this- alone- was where their moment was destined to take place.

Betty opened her mouth, and he dropped to one knee, needing to say it while he had the courage to do so, or before she could say something to convince him otherwise. As realisation washed over her face, Betty clasped a hand over her mouth- frozen.  
"Betty Cooper. You're the most truly amazing person I've ever met. I've been in love with you for years, and I can only hope it will stay like that forever. You-" his words got caught. Jughead's eyes went wide, as he realised that it was impossible to capture his love, or her perfection in a few mere words. "Shit, I really should've written this out." He huffed, cursing himself for destroying the perfect moment. Betty giggled, shaking her head, as tears had begun to brim in her eyes, and she nodded, encouraging him to continue. He smiled. It wasn't destroyed yet. This-unpractised, unsure, nervous- was normal for them. "I wish I could do justice to you in words, but that is an impossible task, that will take years to accomplish. Betty, I can promise one thing and that is, that I'll always be there for you, so will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?" Jughead released a sigh, thankful that he'd managed it. Of course, when he'd look back on it, there could've been so many other ways to have phrased it, but that was irrelevant.

There was no hesitation. Betty threw her arms around his neck, kneeling in front of him, face buried in the crook of his neck. She drew back, nodding profusely, and too chocked up to answer. She wasn't wailing, but simply overcome by emotion. Jughead slowly slipped the ring on her finger, and her breath hitched as the diamond glinted in the moonlight. He leaned in to kiss her, but she drew back abruptly.  
"There's time for that later. We should leave before we get caught," she explained, grabbing her purse, and lacing her fingers through his. As he finished locking up, Betty leaned down, brushing her lips against his ear.  
"I love you, Jughead." She whispered.

 **There it is! So, maybe not the next chapter, depending, I'll continue this- like wedding planning, and the actual big day.**


End file.
